"That all depends," he answers, indicating with his hands that Venus should make herself right at home at the tent. After removing the pistol he tucks it aside carefully, but within arm's length, then settles down himself. "Is yours from the married idiot or from the unattached one?"

Of course he can make assumptions about her basket. There's no way on Hell that Enjolras would neglect her in the arena. Courfeyrac recognizes this fact and finds it both admirable and exceedingly pathetic in turn. Part of him feels mildly abandoned. Part of him feels enraged that both Enjolras and Marius would send them baskets filled with chocolates but lacking an actual meal. The soft cheese spread in his basket certainly doesn't count.

"Mine is from Marius. As you can plainly see, he included a highly inspirational note." He narrows his eyes and points to the attached paper. It reads: 'May morta evade you, or hand you a valiant death.' Courfeyrac stares at it again. "It's all very Shakespearean, wouldn't you agree?"