"I've not been through that exact set of circumstances, I'll admit. But I've been through war and seen wounds as gruesome, bodies I'd scarcely recognize as human." He twists the silver band of his ring, recalling his odd feeling that afternoon he watched Enjolras fire his musket, a feeling he sometimes still has when tracing the bullet-wounds on Grantaire's chest. He doesn't like to dwell on it. All the same, "I'd say I've spent the better part of my life with the emotional equivalent of a bone's sticking out of my leg. As inconvenient as it is painful. But," to what he believes is his credit, "I nevertheless stand on it and smile."