"Tell them that," he says. He figures if Courfeyrac or Combeferre argues, Bahorel could always take them. "There's no animals on this table, if you'd like to sit."
This earns him a grin. "Merci," he says as he sits down.
"Of course." A small, fleeting smile in reply. "How are you?"
Bahorel is still staring at the offending kitten. "Can't complain. And you?"
"I'm well enough. Is..." He follows Bahorel's gaze. "...are you frightened of cats?"
He turns to look at Feuilly, looking half amused, half offended. "I grew up on a farm, Feuilly."
"Oh, right, of course," he says, glancing a bit embarrassedly at his hands. "Why the fascination, then?"
"Cats belong in stables, not in cafes," he shrugs.
"Maybe he plans to leave it, to catch mice," he suggests.
Bahorel snorts. "From the looks of it, he's more likely to let it sleep in his bed than leaving it here."
Feuilly raises an eyebrow. "Yes, well. Perhaps he's a rat problem at home." His tone suggests his high doubt of that.
Bahorel can't help but laugh at this.
"You can't ever tell what the fancies of these students are," he says, knowing (and hoping) Bahorel will take no offense.
"Well, maybe Matthieu wouldn't mind, but can you honsetly see Enjolras sharing a flat with rodents?" he asks, still laughing.
This idea earns a smile. "Certainly not. He'd lecture them."