[Francis holds in a (lightly) chiding comment as he sees the state of his poor citizen. Enjolras already looked like he hadn't slept the past few days, and on top of that he was still awake; Francis had to wonder when the poor thing would simply collapse from exhaustion. Even the immortal France himself couldn't handle being awake for so many days in a row. Instead of making the comment, he lets out a soft sigh and gently reaches for Enjolras' hand, squeezing it tenderly - before letting go of it as quickly as he grabbed it to step inside the apartment.]

I had hoped you would be asleep, chéri. It is already past two in the morning.

[He still speaks in hushed tones, even if the likelihood is that he's not going to wake up anyone in the rest of the house. Still, he's tired, his poor Enjolras needs comfort, and keeping quiet seems to be the best solution to both problems.]