Author's Note: Yay! Thank you so much for the awesome response so far. I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AND IT'S SO SHORT. My only excuse is life. And college. And musicals. Also my Les Miserables audition is in 13 days you guys. 13 DAMN DAYS. You must send me good vibes.

The next night at Eponine's work a familiar face showed up. She wiped down a table before walking over to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't you have some revolutionary meeting to be crashing?" she asked with a smile. The curly haired brunette gave her an easy smile in return, shrugging his shoulders.

"No meet tonight. The golden one and co. have a big midterm coming up," Grantaire answered, making a face at the word midterm.

"What? Not a fan of future lawyers and doctors? Don't you have any midterms to be studying for?" Ponine chuckled, putting a whiskey down in front of him. It was the same thing he always ordered unless he was in a wine mood.

"Darling we majored in art history for a reason," chimed Jehan as he joined the table. Eponine have her other friend a questioning look.

"What are you doing in such a sleazy place J? There's no magical fairy dust here," she huffed, picking up the empty glasses from a nearby table to keep busy. The three friends were an unlikely trio, but they balanced each other nicely. R, the ever cynical alcoholic with an unmatched artistic talent. Jehan, the eternally optimistic gay friend with a special way with words. And then there was Eponine: the hopeless romantic who was jaded by a hard life and grounded with responsibility.

"No one at the Musain. And you've been working here too much Pony. It's not healthy," her redheaded friend touched her arm gently, but she jerked it away.

"Don't call me Pony," she growled before leaving them to go back to work. She dropped a few fruity cocktails and more whiskey off at their table several times before her boss called her over.

"Oi Eponine," he hissed, beckoning her. "Get those two bastards out of my bar. I don't allow their kind in here," he rumbled, in a low tone. She turned to look at where he was pointing only to see Jehan flirting with a rather attractive young man.

"They're paying customers," she said simply. She had always suspected him to be a bigot, but had never heard such an outright statement before.

"I don't care. Get them out," he repeated. Her brow creased in response.

"I can't do that. Why don't you have Edgar do it?"

"Listen here you little slut," he grabbed her face roughly. "You'll do as I say or you won't be working here anymore," he spat, his breath making her want to vomit. From across the room, a very drunk Grantaire—who'd already had a few drinks before he came—watched with fury as Eponine allowed herself to be pushed around. He stood up, stomped over, and pulled Eponine backwards.

"Hey!" he hiccupped, "Keep your hands off the lady," he bellowed. Eponine groaned, trying to pull him back.

"Get out of my face you little punk," her boss said with a shove. Eponine began to scold Grantaire, but before she could he punched the man in the face which started an all-out bar fight.

"You lot, stop it!" she shouted, trying to pry them apart only to be punched in the gut (by who, she couldn't even tell, but they sure did pack a nasty punch). She stood back and gave a loud whistle, distracting the two of them long enough for Jehan to pull Grantaire away.

"Get out of my bar!" her boss shouted before looking at her with a glint in his eye. "And you! You're fired. Don't ever step foot in my bar again, you hear?" he growled as Eponine threw her apron at him in disgust and followed Jehan out. Grantaire had an already showing black eye and split lip. He was practically passed out in the street.

"Get him home. Make sure he doesn't have a concussion," she instructed before turning and leaving them without another word, in search of a new job. She only knew one place she could go. She was desperate. She took a deep breath before slipping on her poker face and walking into a familiar alley. She knocked on the door and leaned against the wall, easily resuming her role as daughter of the wolf.

"Eponine," the man who answered smiled, puffing on a cigar. "I knew you'd come around."

"Shut up Parnasse," she all-but-growled at the well-dressed young man with greasy hair. "You got work or not?"

"For you, my sweet? Always," he winked, opening the door wider to his underground strip club. Eponine sucked up her pride. You need the money, she reminded herself.

"Man that was killer. I don't even understand why I'm in that class," Courfeyrac complained as they left their communications midterm. Combeferre chuckled.

"Because your mother doesn't think theatre is a real major and she's paying for university," Marius laughed.

"Whoa is me!" Courf cried, pretending to faint on top of Enjolras who huffed and shoved him off. When they reached the café, Grantaire was already there, nursing a black coffee. He looked beat up and Joly set to fretting over him right away.

"Good god Grantaire, what happened?" Combeferre questioned, sitting down at a table with his light roast coffee.

"I don't remember too much," Grantaire groaned, but Jehan smacked him on the back of the head.

"You got Ponine fired," he scolded, sipping his herbal tea.

"What?" Courf asked, suddenly not in a melodramatic mood.

"He started a bar fight with her boss," Jehan murmured.

"Oh now I remember. The bastard deserved it. He grabbed her and shoved her around!"

"You didn't teach him a lesson, R. All you did was injure yourself and get Eponine fired from her job," Jehan told him.

"Wait I thought Eponine worked here," Enjolras uttered, recalling the argument they'd had a few days before.

"She works three jobs," Jehan explained.

"How does she have time for three jobs and school?" he questioned further.

"She doesn't."

Courfeyrac pulled Enjolras aside. "Look I know you don't always know how to be sensitive about stuff, but Eponine quit school during first year because she's raising her two younger siblings. Her parents aren't around and she struggles, but she's very proud so it's not like she'll accept handouts," he explained as clearly as possible for his non apathetic friend. Enjolras nodded, though he didn't understand why she struggled so much when there were resources to help her. Enjolras hated anything to do with over-proud people and reputations.

On the first floor Eponine winced as Chetta elbowed her in the side. The punch from the night before had bruised, but luckily was fairly small. Eponine was no stranger to pain, but she hadn't had to deal with it since leaving her parents' house. She grabbed a few coffees for the boys upstairs and headed up there, raising an eyebrow at the hush that fell over.

"Don't let me intrude on your secret discussions," she joked, but was met with only a few awkward chuckles. Enjolras watched her silently, observing things he never had before. Her eyes had dark circles and her hair was kept up, but was clearly wild and unkempt…dirty even. Her pants were faded with age and her hands leathery from work. She wasn't exactly what you'd call beautiful either.

"What? Plotting to overthrow the government or something?" Eponine continued to tease, only to be met by an uncomfortable silence.

"We're just worried about you, Ponine," Jehan finally admitted quietly. Eponine rolled her eyes, stuck her hand on her hip and glared at them all.

"Listen here, then. I'm not interested in your concern or your pity. Grantaire fucked up. I dealt with it. It's over. Go take your righteousness somewhere else," she spat, disgusted. As she stormed off, Combeferre shook his head while Courfeyrac sighed. Jehan had tears in his eyes, but Enjolras just stared at where she'd been, utterly confused. Marius climbed upstairs, having been in the bathroom.

"What did I miss?" he smiled only to be met by a series of groans from his friends.

"Pontmercy, you are completely ignorant," Courfeyrac clapped his hands on Marius' shoulders.