[ Jehan Prouvaire has a look to him. He is a very pretty young man, but he is not the only pretty young man in Paris. He doesn't have perfect complexion or the rosiest lips, but his hair curls around his ears and his greenish eyes pop out against freckled skin. Sometimes, if someone gets the boy into a rage, he seems momentarily more beautiful, more of an icon of romantic fervor, but then again he slips back into a degree of respectability, and once again he is boring.

Maybe it's that passion for the cause that has Grantaire interested. He would like to capture that look in his eyes, for he could never manage to get Enjolras to sit for him.

The image would be sub par, but practice makes perfect, right?

It's a waste of time, that he's entirely aware, but he was drunker when he invited Jehan back to his shamble of a flat than he is now. He drinks from a bottle at his feet before he returns to his paper and charcoal, frowning. ]

and there it is, that naive stare. whatever you happen to be thinking about is a waste of time and not worth putting down on paper.