It's certainly not as good as a proper blaze for settling the mood, but he does feel a little better. Enough to laugh a little at Lesgle's self assessment. "Yes, what a change; you were so callous before. Famed for it."

"Grantaire, ah..." he laughs again, and reaches for the nearest bottle, "I don't know. Perhaps he'll see the joke of the thing. Perhaps he'll take it all in the worst way. If you've advice to give on how to tell him, I will not argue it; only, if you want me to be the bearer of odd news you must give specifics." He taps Lesgle's shoulder gently with the edge of his boot. " I think you're wrong about it worrying Enjolras, you know. He's not likely to be thrown in knowing that our cause reached people years or worlds away. But then I hardly expected you to be so rattled by it; and yet here you are, an opium-pipe away from a proper dramatic collapse."

He's not trying to be provocative, now. He is trying to understand, and his voice, despite his own earlier insistence, is gentle. "Come, now, patience with a slow learner; what's troubling you, really?" About this, or about whatever-it-was that had Bossuet storming into his rooms earlier.