Sophie held her breath as she walked down the quiet, dark Paris streets. She was frightened, this wasn't like her safe home in England. She fingered the soft cockade on her breast for courage, as if the spirit of the man would flow into her.

She pictured the man, strong and heroic. Was he being serious when he said he wanted her to meet him? What if they talked and he found her insufferable? She had a bad habit of speaking her mind, could that possibly get her into trouble?

The cafe loomed brightly and warmly in the distance and a smile crept its way onto her face. Sophie pulled the hood off of her head as she entered the building. Suddenly, she found herself in the grasp of a strange man, a man who smelt terrible.

"Oh, now what's a pretty mademoiselle doing her all by herself in my cafe?" He asked lecherously. Sophie grimaced at the rankness of his breath and coughed.

"I'm looking for a man..." She began before she was suddenly with a different person, a woman who smelt just as bad as the man before.

"How much is he payin' ya dearie? We do charge." The woman asked crudely, and Sophie felt mortally offended.

"Madame, you misunderstand. I'm not a prostitute. I'm looking for a man I met in the marketplace today." Sophie spoke softly, trying to keep her anger at bay. Grantaire heard her and smiled mischievously.

"Mademoiselle, I am Grantaire. I recognize you from this afternoon." He kissed her hand gracefully and she giggled.

"I'm looking for-" She began.

"My friend, Enjolras, right?" He grinned slyly. Sophie was unsure and bit her lower lip. " Was he Blonde?" Sophie nodded. "Is that his name? Enjolras?"

"Well, it's his last name...None of us really know his first name." Grantaire said with a resigned face. "Ah well, what brings a beautiful dame to this shithole?" He asked.

Sophie's face screwed up in laughter as she let out an unladylike snort. "Well I was asked to meet Enjolras here..."

"Oh, well he stormed out of here a few moments ago. Quite funny actually." Grantaire retorted. "But it would seem, you're the woman who's tickled his fancy. What is your name?"

"My first or my last name?" Sophie asked with a delicate eyebrow raised. Grantaire laughed at her wit. "Your full name." He said, pulling her to a table.

"Sophie Marie Lemieux." She replied, pulling her hair down from it's ribbon. He whistled in response. "My, you are a minx aren't you? How come you're here? A pretty Englishwoman?"

"Oh, my aunt lives in Calais and she's been helping me get settled in to my own apartment here in Paris." Sophie replied, and Grantaire poured her a glass of wine.

"Hmmm...that doesn't answer my question."

"Well my mother had arranged for my marriage to some fop in Paris, and I refused. So my aunt interceded and bought me a small apartment."

"Do you know the name of this 'fop'?" Grantaire asked, popping the top off of a fresh bottle of wine. Sophie shook her head. "I didn't want to know. I don't believe in being forced to marry. It's not as if we need the money..." She mumbled.

"Ah, you see Enjolras, Marius and I come from wealthy families as well. Some of us parted better than others." He replied. Sophie gave him a small smile and gently patted his hand. "Well, I'm convinced." He said, abruptly standing up. Sophie rose and shook her head with a confused smile.

"Convinced of what?"

"Grantaire!" A voice snapped from the doorway. Sophie turned her face to the noise and felt her breath hitch in her throat. There he was, the blonde man. Grantaire turned lazily around to face his fuming friend, grinning wildly. He kissed her on her cheek swiftly.

"Mademoiselle, I must bid you adieu. I need to hide from our raging friend." He said, running towards the stairs. Sophie carefully approached him, frightened and intrigued by the passionate fury on his marble features.

"Pardon me Monsieur, but you asked me to meet you here. Imagine my surprise when I arrive but you're not here. The moonlight is fading." She mused. He turned to her, embarrassment evident on his face.

"I'm sorry, I must look like a true monster to you right now." He said sheepishly. Sophie shook her head and put her hand on his arm. "I promised you a walk. Come on then." He said, leading her out the door.

The two walked through the abandoned streets of Paris. It had just begun to rain.

"So, your name is Enjolras..." Sophie began, breaking the silence. He nodded.

"And your name is?"

"Sophie."

"A lovely French name." He commented, making her blush softly. "What's your first name?" Sophie asked turning to him. Enjolras turned his face away from her, casting a soft white glow on the side of his face. "mm.r...n" He mumbled.

Sophie giggled. "What was that?" She asked, pushing a curl behind her ear.

"My name. Is. Marcelin Antoine Enjolras." He said finally. "Just don't tell the boys please? They'd never let me live it down." Sophie nodded. "Of course I won't tell them...Marcelin." She giggled. He smiled at her.

"Is that what you're going to call me?"

"No, I was going to call you Enjolras, if that's okay?" Enjolras chuckled. "I'd prefer it. I can't imagine what was going on in my parents' heads when they decided to name me Marcelin."

Sophie giggled. "My middle name is terrible...you of all people would hate it."

"What is it? I could never hate anything about you." He said, blushing. Revolutions he could handle, flirting however, was a completely different story. Sophie turned pink.

"Marie."

"As in, Marie Antoinette?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"Exactly. My mother is English, so she saw nothing wrong with it." Sophie giggled.

"No offense Sophie, but...your mother sounds ghastly." Enjolras mused quietly and was taken aback when she was silent. Sophie began to giggle and nodded in agreement.

"She is pretty awful. But at least I wasn't named Marcelin." She laughed, breaking away from him and ran playfully slow. He grinned and chased after her, tickling her when he got close enough. She screamed in playful protest as he captured her.

"Hey!"

The two were quiet. Enjolras was aware of how this would look to any passerby: a schoolboy trying to woo his way into the petticoats of a lady. His hands were wrapped around her small waist and she was breathing heavily from running. Beads of sweat collected at the hairline of both.

"You two. Stop." The voice called again. "Let the lady go Monsieur." The inspector approached them and stared at them.

"Mademoiselle, is this man harassing you? I heard screams." He asked, looking at the woman.

Sophie shook her head. "Oh no sir." She replied sweetly.

"I'm her betrothed Monsieur, and we were just having a little fun." Enjolras covered. Sophie smiled slyly.

"The streets are not for fun boy. Mademoiselle, are you new to town? My name is Inspector Javert. Do you need an escort home?" He asked. Sophie looked to Enjolras.

"No Monsieur, my fiance' is showing me around. But thank you." Sophie said dismissively. She took Enjolras's hand and walked past the baffled inspector.

"Madame, it seems that our evening is over but..." He said with a mischievous wink.

"I'd like to see you again as well Enjolras. Tomorrow, I'll come to the cafe. I'll rally with you." She said kindly. He smiled. "I'd like that, now. Show me where you live and I'll see you home safely."

Sophie led him back to her small apartment at the Rue Mondetour. On the way there, they talked about everything she and Grantaire had talked about. She didn't want any misconceptions about her intentions, after all. Once outside the building, Sophie stood on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his jawline. "Until tomorrow Monsieur Marcelin..." She said sweetly, going inside.

Once alone, Enjolras sighed and walked, no floated the way back to his boys, and back to his revolution.