Enjolras stuck out from the crowd hovering at the edges of the floor, because he looked almost comfortable. He caught Neffa's eye because he was neither reaching for an itch he couldn't scratch nor tottering under the weight of a ridiculous hairpiece - his posture was natural, and the effect was downright elegant next to the shining monstrosities stumbling around him.

Furthermore, there were no lights on Enjolras's clothes. Neffa was starting to fear he was going to go blind in this place before they even had time to kill him, and Enjolras was one of the few people in the mirrored room whose slightest motion wasn't giving him a headache. He wasn't sure whether it said That man has sense or That man knows someone who has sense, but he was willing to bargain on either.

He approached Enjolras, swinging neatly into step beside him with a smile that was half introductory and half a Would you look at these people grimace.

"I've got to know - is it a reward, being allowed to wear flat shoes here? Or a punishment?"

(Not that Neffa's costume was too offensive by comparison - the electric blue of his thigh-length coat was garish, but not lacking any necessary pieces, and while he loathed the powdered wig more with every passing minute, there was mercifully no birdcage in it. He wished he could remove the lace at his throat as easily as Enjolras has loosened his cravat, but compared to the collars some were stuck with, he was perfectly content to count his blessings.)