I recently took up a bit of a roleplay with a lady on Gmail and have created this little piece of gold! I'm revising it up a bit, and I hope you like it! Enjoy!

Montparnasse was a ruthless thug of the streets. He held no remorse for his crimes, no matter the deed. He could steal a sous or kill a man. These actions brought him pure joy. He was a criminal through and through. Of course he fit right into the band of thieves, run by the Thenardiers. They were just as cruel and underhanded as he. Montparnasse nearly became like a son to the Thenardiers. He frequently slept with their attractive daughters Azelma and Eponine, as well.

He was not an unattractive man either. He was quite a wicked man, however he was capable of being charming. He could charm the pants off of any person in town, which made him quite the good crook. He could flip his personality at the drop of a hat. He avoided the police this way often. No one would ever suspect that dear Montparnasse, a truly good lad of the law and a volunteer at the Thenardiers' inn was a hardened criminal. Only the lower class people knew that, of course. And since the police had never caught him, they were none the wiser.

Blow after blow was sent to Grantaire's stomach as he hunched on the ground. Towering over him was Montparnasse, kicking and hitting him with his foot and cane. Of course, the heavy wooden cane with brass topper was something he had snatched from a dandy that morning. It was the perfect weapon, however, as he hit him relentlessly.

The drunk was coughing up blood by now, begging for the man to stop. He couldn't lift himself from the ground to retaliate in any way. When he had originally been cornered in the dark alley near the Musain, he had landed a few blows to the crook's mug before being beaten to the ground by Montparnasse's henchmen. Now he lay on the ground, moaning in agony as Montparnasse beat him senseless.

"Cough up those 1500 francs, now! Or else, we'll come back an' do much much worse..." Montparnasse growled, dragging Grantaire up by his hair and looking him in the eye.

"I don't have it!" Grantaire managed to say, his lungs aching. His chest hurt badly, and he imagined his ribs were either bruised or broken. If he got out of this alive, he would have to have Joly check them out.

"That's fine..." Montparnasse looked over his shoulder at a big thug who was easily 6'3'' and at least 300 pounds. Whispering something in his ear, the giant ran off in a different direction than the two.

"We'll just get it from that pretty friend o' yours... What was his name again? Enjolras?"

Grantaire froze in a panic. God, no. Not Enjolras. He had nothing to do with this. He was the one who had run up a tab at the Thenardiers' inn, not Enjolras.

"Wait!" He gasped and dug around in his pocket, extracting what little money he had. He had recently sold a painting for about 10 francs, and then borrowed about 12 sous from Combeferre that afternoon to purchase some paints. He deposited it into Montparnasse's greedy hands, waiting as the man counted out the money.

"Not enough. But it'll do. For now. I'll be back tomorrow. You better have that money by then!"

Montparnasse dropped the cynic on the cobblestone alley and walked off, beckoning to the other henchmen to follow.

Grantaire now lay in agony as they walked off. His ribcage was aching badly, and he felt the need to empty his stomach. So he rolled over and did so, coughing violently afterwards. But as he nearly collapsed into a nearby puddle of muck and god knows what, the Musain door opened not too far away.

Enjolras, his Apollo, stepped out and his eyes darted to the drunk in the alley.

"Really Grantaire, if you can't even make it home, why even bother leaving in the first place?" Enjolras huffed, coming into the alley. His footsteps slowed as he realized this was no mere drunken slip. "Are you alright?"

Grantaire managed to keep his eyes open as the blonde god approached fully, noticing that Grantaire was badly bruised.

"Be glad that Joly is still here..." Enjolras murmured softly, heaving Grantaire to his feet and back into the Musain. Immediately all eyes were on them, staring. Joly was out of his seat and examining the bruised man, a worried look on his face. After a few moments, he deemed him to be alright. Just a few bruised ribs at best, and most likely a black eye from when Montparnasse got him the first time.

"Take it easy for a few days, R. No need to overdo it. Get some rest."

"If I had a place to rest, I would." Grantaire mumbled, sighing. "Do you think they'd mind if I stayed in the backroom?"

"Preposterous, Grantaire." Enjolras spoke up with a sigh. "You can stay in my spare room, if you like. No need to burden the cafe owner." He scribbled something down on a piece of paper before getting up and collecting his things.

"Combeferre, would you mind helping Grantaire and I home?"

Combeferre nodded and got up, saying his goodbyes to the rest of the Amis. They were soon enough walking down the cobblestone paths that wound about the town.

Enjolras' apartment wasn't too far, and he wasn't that bad off at all. He constantly funneled money from his parents into the revolution efforts, but partially he had used such money to buy himself a nice enough apartment. It wasn't extravagant. Just enough for himself and a spare bedroom, however the bathroom was pretty extravagant. Enjolras liked to bathe in luxury. It was one thing he allowed himself to indulge in.

Combeferre dropped the two off now, tipping his hat to them and going his own way home. Enjolras helped Grantaire up the stairs, opening the door to the small sitting room. The room was dimly lit, and sparsely furnished, but it was packed with books. The shelves (there were several) were crammed with books. Textbooks, atlases, dictionaries, language books, biographies, novels, even a few storybooks and poetry. Enjolras was an avid reader, another thing he allowed himself to indulge in. He also had on display a series of pamphlets that he and the Amis had made since its creation.

Grantaire hadn't enough time to enjoy the looks of the room, for Enjolras was shuffling him into the spare bedroom. The room was bigger than the one he had rented previously, but it was still rather small. However, it was cozy, and big enough for Grantaire. The cynic fell into the soft bed and was soon fast asleep. He wouldn't have to worry about Montparnasse and money for the rest of the night.

The thought made him awaken, however. How would he gain the money he required? How would he keep himself from being beaten senseless over and over again? How would he keep Enjolras safe?

"How much do you owe, Grantaire?" Enjolras spoke from the doorway. Grantaire nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of him speaking, for he had forgotten the blonde was even in the room.

He was silent before murmuring quietly. "1500 francs." Grantaire didn't look at his leader, choosing to look at the sheets of the bed.

Enjolras extracted a wad of papers from his pocket, shelling out said amount of money. Grantaire wanted to scold him for carrying about that much money, but he said nothing.

"Take this. You will not get such a large tab in an establishment again, Grantaire. We need all of our men healthy for the revolution. No matter the amount of support, or lack thereof. Each member is important, we cannot have you bruised and bloody."

Grantaire nodded slowly, taking the wad of money offered to him. "Yes..."

"And to repay me for this, you will pass out pamphlets at the docks tomorrow. Yes? Your wakeup will be at seven, when Jehan and Courfeyrac arrive. Expect it."

Enjolras turned on his heels and walked out. Soon enough, the sound of running bathwater was prominent in the little apartment. Grantaire fell asleep imagining his Apollo's beautiful form in steaming bathwater and of the end of debt.