[ Enjolras, a little shellshocked at the sudden touch, lets himself be led. His eyes are fixated on the back of Grantaire's dark curls as they make their way up the stairs, so much so he almost misses the question, answering a beat too late-- ]

Ah, kind of? I remembered...several different things, over time. [ Motivations for his suicide move aside, Enjolras really needs to ask Grantaire about that one time outside the Musain, why he didn't just make his move back in 1832, social conventions be damned... ] I just didn't realize he--that you were you. It was all blurred, like a corrupted film reel, if that makes any sense.