Enjolras had been watching his face. He smiles faintly at what he sees, and slips past him into the room.

The bundle of clean clothing goes in a corner; a plug goes into the drain of the bathrub. He twists a knob and water begins to gurgle forth into it.

Enjolras raises his voice a little over the noise. "It seems this is common in the future. Clean water, hot and cold, at the turn of a spigot. As expected as a bucket would be for us."

Months later, this is still a marvel. It's still a gift. Once he learned from Simon Tam about the causes of cholera, infinitely more miraculous.