It was going to have to become more than an ideological war at some point. That Enjorlas knew. Someone other than their crowd of students was going to have to join the fight if they wanted to make a point, much less win the battle. And he was not about to be picky about anyone who was willing to the join. Which was exactly why he was currently trolling the worst part of the city, surrounding the docks. And at night no less.

The only people who really worked this part were the crooks and thieves, and of course, the working girls waiting to greet the men who stepped off the boats. None of whom were exactly into his brand of rhetoric, unless it meant they were treated like the king of France himself, at the expense of others. Maybe he was a little picky, but really, was it so hard to find someone who truly shared his ideals. If they were going to join him, risk their lives beside him, and be trusted to have his back…it was to be expected, right?

He was getting sorely tired, and ready to call it quits- after all, even those with the strongest ideals had their limits of idealism- when a familiar someone caught his eye. Amongst the cries of the lovely ladies peddling their wares, she shouldn't have caught his attention, but yet, here he was looking.

She was quiet, almost demure looking, were it not for the company she was surrounded by. He had recognized her on sight almost immediately. Though they had never really been introduced, she was a familiar face, always trailing a few steps behind Marius. The kind of unconditional devotion and love she had for him was obvious, and was curious enough for someone who had ever only loved an idea for him to give her several second glances.

As he watched, a man approached her. Her posture suddenly became an odd mixture of flirtation and weariness, as if this were habit. As she leaned in to talk to the man, and as he followed her, he surmised that it was. And as violent as this made him feel, he was frozen in place, something that simply did not happen to him. Thankfully, the man moves on to another one of the working girls, who is being much more…flamboyant in attracting the man's attentions, before it was warranted for him to do anything.

On instinct, he strides toward her, unsure of what he will say, only that he will say something. How exactly did his best friend manage to become friends with someone in this line of work? A prostitute, for god's sake. Only Marius. And better, he doubted his friend even knew this sordid detail.

She spotted him approaching now, and her face twisted in a grim smirk. "Oh how the mighty revolution has fallen. Ready to relieve some of that baser humanity, without the blow to the reputation from another romp with a bourgeois beauty?"

"That's not why I'm here. Though obviously the same can't be said for you," he says, tossing what could be construed as a piteous look at her unkempt appearance. "Does my friend know of this?"

There was no point in trying to make him believe, that in God's truth, she was not one of the lovely ladies of the night, there to seduce, but simply collect a package from a rather sinister character who frequented this area. Maybe flirt with the rich ones and lighten their pockets along the way.

"Oh poor unsuspecting Marius, accidental friend of whores. But monsieur, let us not talk about him. You're the one here, now," she says, sidling closer. "Let us talk about you."

"I don't want to talk about me, damn it." And he takes a decided step back. One which Eponine notices, and takes a tiny victory. Mr. Revolution was now on the defensive. "Why do you do this?"

"We each get our money some way. You inherit from your rich papa, I make my own."

"There are other ways."

"Only rich men willing to hand over their sous get to tell me what to do." She was in too deep with this lie to back out at this point, and had no idea what she was going to do if she had called it wrong, and Enjorlas was there on anything other than mission of mercy, to save all the less fortunate.

There was that same fire in his eyes now, the one that she usually only sees from a distance when he's giving one of his speeches about brotherhood and equality. But now she can see it up close and very personal and it's both haunting and terribly exciting.

"You want money?" he says, angrily, emptying the contents of his pockets into his palm. "This is what I have, here and now. But, as you're so fond of reminding me, I have a rich family, so I'm good for the rest right? And what I would like is for you to get out of here."

"Oh, Saint Enjorlas then. You will never know how much you might have enjoyed it. And for your suffering conscience, I would have my money, and maybe have even enjoyed it." That stab at his masculinity has him dangerously close to yelling something absurd at her, but he controls the urge, though the effort shows on his face.

"What do you want? Is this about taking advantage of Marius, getting him to rescue you? Except I can't see how, seeing as he doesn't know. Besides, you wouldn't try to take his money; you love him." That stops her straight in her tracks.

"You have absolutely no right to bring him into this conversation."

"And why not? You were getting pretty personal. It goes both ways. So, you do this for your papa, yeah? He has a bit of a reputation and you wouldn't do it just because. Someday soon, tomorrow even, the world's gonna change and your papa will be lost trying to catch up, and you'll be the last thing he's thinking about."

"You have no idea what I would or would not." And with that less impactful than she was hoping exit line, she took off across the plaza until she was caught in the crowds, and he was just stood alone, thoroughly baffled.