Enjolras had taken a step further into the room and towards Joly. This was, apparently, all the cue the kitten needed to launch itself at his ankle.

Wait. Amend that to kittens, plural, and ankles, plural.

"Evidently," says Enjolras, transparently amused, and now halted.

He doesn't entirely understand the appeal of having small furry creatures eating your food, shredding your furniture and gnawing at your clothing, and getting fleas all over. But kittens make Joly beam besottedly like that, and Lesgle look smugly infatuated like that, and his friends' joy is really all Enjolras needs to approve of something.