Chapter 2 – Wrappers & Bunnies
"'Ponine?"
"What?" She snapped, hand on her borrowed knife in her surplus coat pocket.
Instead of a drunken customer, Courfrayac's naïve eyes filled with worry found hers.
"Wanna go in? Have a pint or two?"
"Fine. Gotta call 'Roche first. Save me a seat yeah?" Collapsing on the familiar stone step, she rolled through her contacts until her little brother's face lit up the screen.
"Mon frère, what's up?"
She could hear scuffling and the dull roar of drunken voices fighting a geriatric stereo for control.
"Nothing 'Ponine." He trilled, breaking in to a cough that barely covered a cry of "Shut it, you arse!"
Rolling her eyes, Eponine let her arm fall away from her ear, hiked the bag against her shoulder, and ripped the door to the Café open. Putting her years in government housing to use, Eponine assessed the familiar premises. Her eyes skimming over the regular drunks and scared shitless blind date couples at the bar, until she spotted a familiar mop of dirty blond hair among the college students. Mon dieu, would it kill the boy to use a comb?
In six strides, she crossed the room and drummed her fingers against her sibling's matted waves.
Gavroche let his head drop and blinked sheepishly at his sister.
"Aww feck." Courfrayac muttered, fiddling with his plastic frames.
Combfrerre pinched the bridge of his nose and reddened before squaring his shoulders. Ah, the leader of the infamous Les Amis. Oblivious? Yes, that describes Enjolras. Hunched over his laptop, muttering something about a firewall.
"This security….Gav? Reaching a hand behind him, Enjolras froze.
Amused Eponine raised an eyebrow "Oh no, Monsieur. please continue."
With all the grace of the 11th Doctor the leader blanched and withdrew his hand before turning.
"Ah Ep." A flush highlighted Enjolras' cheekbones as he cleared his throat. "Gav said you knew." He mumbled meekly.
"Sure. Trust the 11-year old fil who was suspended last week for picking lockers."
Indignant Gavroche wriggled out of his guardian's hold.
"They deserved it. Feckin' pricks."
"LANGUAGE." Eponine yelled raking a hand through her tangled hair. "Ow, shit."
The poet's hands wrapped around her waist as Jehan laid his head against her neck.
"What colour is that?" She exclaimed, trying to hide her panic, looking down at her friend's latest manicure.
"Mint candy apple and peach sorbet." Releasing her bony frame, Jehan grasped her hand. "Missed you lovebug. Is that a wrapper?" Distractions were commonplace when communicating with the poet and more thoughts were left unfinished than completed.
However in this case, Jehan frowned as he gently untangled a sweets foil and three leaves from her wind-swept-do.
Clucking his tongue the poet led Eponine to a table despite her protests.
"Enough darling. When I'm through, maybe you can plait my locks." He grinned.
Finally she consented after a quick look over at boys most of whom were participating in a 'Chubby Bunny' contest.
Moaning, she thought of the sugar rush she'd have to deal with and collapsed against the back of the chair.
"Marshmallows, marshmallows" Jehan sang quietly running a neon orange comb through his friend's unruly locks. "Know what that means 'Ponine?"
"Ah, I've got a sugar hangover to deal with in the morn'?"
With a wag of his polished finger the poet pointed to Courfrayac "My Energizer bunny is charging for the night."
After a moment they burst out in hysterics, laughing until they nearly fell out of their seats.