It had been another morning of vigorous discussion. Enjolras was adamantly defending radical laïcité, while Combeferre believed the twenty-first century state should embrace pluralism.

"It is not trivializing our country's weaknesses," Enjolras declared, "to believe that we should not only emphasize our common heritage, but should encourage others to do likewise!"

"That's beside the point," said Combeferre. "A true commitment to individual liberty requires that we respect each person's right to choose their own clothing."

"And such one-dimensional emphases on individual liberty are what has led to the excesses of the free market-"

"You're just resentful because it's even more difficult to tell people apart in headscarves."

Enjolras paused. "No ad hominems."

"What's all this, now?" said Courfeyrac, joining them.

"Oh, hey." Enjolras reached for his cell phone, scrolling through. He continued to thumb upwards, his scowl deepening as he eventually changed direction at the bototm of his screen.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said distantly.

"Do you really need to text someone right now?"

"Well there's a...lot to catch up on, you know. Even if muggers are merely responding to the economic inequities that persist in society, I don't exactly want to have my phone out in public."

"Afternoon, Courfeyrac!" waved Joly, as several of their other friends joined them. "Nice haircut."

Enjolras gave a none-too-subtle sigh of relief as he pocketed the phone. "Was it really necessary?"

"In a deterministic sense?" said Courfeyrac. "No, I don't think so."

"I mean it wasn't like you were able to donate it or anything."

"Not nearly enough for that, nope."

"Then I think it looks-er-strange."

"Well, that's your right."

"Here, hold on." Enjolras raised the cell phone again, snapping a picture of Courfeyrac and hurriedly typing at the screen.

"Hey, if you're going to text a picture of me, at least get my good side."

"I'm not."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Er-"

"Updating your contact photo so he knows who you are when you call," Combeferre jumped in.

"When I call?" said Courfeyrac. "It doesn't display the names?"

"Of course it does," said Enjolras irritably. "I know how to read."

"Yeah, but. Come to think of it," one of the others called over. "Can you actually tell us apart?"

"Sure I can. I've read all your manifestos, your Facebook political arguments..."

"Yeah, but those are just by our names. What about in the flesh?"

He sighed. "Okay. You are Feuilly, and I know you because you're always linking to your Goodreads site and recommending these obscure authors from overseas. Although sometimes you use these weird textspeak abbreviations that I think you made up yourself, but they're actually kind of cute."

"Okay, well, I'm Bahorel. That one's Feuilly," nodded Bahorel.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Okay. You, on the other hand," and here he smiled at a different man, "are Prouvaire, you sometimes retweet random people-and some of those verses from Ezekiel do make me rethink state laïcité, but that's actually besides the point-and do this cool thing where you're always pithy but still actually pretty deep sometimes."

"I'm Grantaire," he sighed.

"Oh. You're not even pithy. And that's also not even a name."

"Neither is Jehan," he pointed out.

"Who's Jehan?"

"Prouvaire," said Grantaire, pointing at Prouvaire.

"Okay, then-it's the principles that count, rather than specifics-whatever. You, over there, are Joly. Sometimes you go to med school although actually I haven't read you posting about that for a while, maybe it's just too gross to go into details? You always remember people's birthdays, like actually remember rather than just rely on that thing in the corner, and can always keep up a good mood. Also you keep tagging someone named Musichetta in your profile pictures."

"Er," said the man being addressed, "I'm actually Lesgles, but you know what, you're close enough."

"I'm Joly," said Joly, waving.

"You're Joly?" Enjolras asked. "Wait, then who's Bossuet?"

"I'm Bossuet," said Lesgles.

"That's not even fair, if you're all going to double up like that."

"See, this is why we need to diversify the group," said Feuilly. "I think it'll be easier for him."

"Wait, okay, who's Grantaire again?" Enjolras asked.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "Me."

"How many are there of you guys?"

"Of who?"

"I thought there were a handful of people who keep drifting in and out, not attending as regularly as the others, just drinking every once in a while. You'd all gotten matching profile pics, it was some incredibly stupid in-joke I wasn't going to ask about. How many of you are there?"

"It's just been me, all along."

"That's actually incredibly sad."

"Enjolras, don't take this the wrong way," said Combeferre, "but have you considered maybe just trying to learn people's first names instead? It might be easier for you."

"Keep track of twice as many names, for all your faces?" Enjolras shook his head. "No chance."