Eponine sighed. Enjolras had been up for days on end now, working on his damned speeches for the rallies he was planning. He needed to sleep. She could see the sleep deprivation on his face, and, though he looked good doing just about anything, this wasn't a good thing. The usually enigmatic and excitable Enjolras was sitting at his table in Cafe Musain, practically falling asleep over his notecards. She sighed, turning to Musichetta. She picked up the cup that she was handed and brought it to Enjolras. Yes, this would do. She walked to his table and set it in front of him, giving him a soft smile and walking away.
Not long after, she and Musichetta looked back over to his table. The cup was drained and Enjolras was slumped over his notes, asleep.