"Yes. We play the game and we play it to win it." All either of them could do was try to get through this with as little trauma as possible. Courfeyrac knew it would be difficult for them, for himself, but probably more especially for Joly. He had at least had a glimpse of the world outside of the Arena. He had seen what this hideous future was and he had ideas about how to change it. If dying in the Arena meant he'd have a chance to do good once he was on the outside, he would gladly die. But Joly hadn't seen what he'd seen. He didn't know what was waiting for them. And it wasn't his fault. As far as Courfeyrac was concerned, his compatriot had every right to be afraid.

"Our goal is to stay alive as long as we can. There are people watching who may send us food and supplies if they like what they see of us. But of course, only one person can emerge from the Arena as the victor. In all likelihood, we will all perish in this place, either by murder or sickness or starvation." It was all incredibly unpleasant, but he felt it would be far worse if he tried to shelter Joly. "Enjolras will be watching us. Perhaps he will take pity on us and send us more food."