"How old are YOU?" the girl asked.

"24."

"That's old...where do you live?"

Mr. Barker rolled his eyes. He thought the girl wouldn't appreciate his company this much. "I live on Fleet Street. I'm a barber there. I live with my wife and daughter."

"You have a daughter? What's she like?" Lorette asked, clearly very excited.

"Well, she's much, much younger than you. She's just learning how to walk. But her name's Johanna."

"Johanna.." the child repeated to herself. "You're a barber?"

"Yes." he said blatantly.

"I'm a fiddler."

"Oh, are you?" he said, pretending to be more interested than he actually was. Before the conversation could go any further, the pair walked up to the inn, side by side, where Madame Thenardier was waiting impatiently. She looked as though she had a lot of things to say to the child, but kept her mouth shut for Mr. Barker was in her presence. She took the pail from Lorette without trouble and motioned for them to come inside, where they met up with Mr. Thenardier.

"Where you been?" he asked Lorette, who, around the man, walked with her head low and her hands fidgeting at her sides as if they were dogs with dominance problems.

"I was fetching water, sir." she said. She stood behind him and peered out from his large stature. After a few minutes of whispering with his wife, the child beneath him let out a loud, harsh cough, and he looked down at her in surprise, having just remembered she was there. He wrote something down again in his ledger and then pulled a piece of bread out of his apron pouch and handed it to her, then gestured for her to leave. She darted off without any reluctance.

Mr. Thenardier had offered Mr. Barker a room for the night at a rather low price, and he only accepted it because he had stayed much longer than he had hoped, though his wife wouldn't be happy with him. It was not as bad as he thought, it was pretty fair for the price. The only complaint was that he had trouble sleeping. After putting two and two together, he had come to the conclusion that Lorette was the daughter of the woman from the factory, Fantine, but he couldn't get the child off his mind. He had got up form his little bed and walked to the door, walking stiffly because of the contrast to his feet from the semi-warm bed to the cold, hard floor. Most of the guests had gone to sleep, but he knew the master and his family were still up. He could hear the low mumbling of the four of them from downstairs, Thenardier discussing something with his wife and their two daughters Eponine and Azelma bickering about something. Mr. Barker crept down the stairs, peeking around to see what Lorette was up to, hoping to ask her some questions. He stopped when he saw Thenardier sitting in the kitchen in an old wooden chair. His wife was washing mugs and other dishes, while their two daughters sat playing a game at the table. They didn't seem to notice little Lorette playing with an old, abandoned stuffed animal a few feet away. Mr. Barker stopped where he was, making sure he couldn't be seen and observed the bunch. He was a little astonished after waiting for a few minutes to see nothing really happen. None of them spoke to each other. But then, Lottie let out another sickly cough and grabbed the family's attention, the nine and twelve year olds in particular.

"Mama! She's playing with my cat!" the oldest exclaimed, immediately hopping from her chair to grab what was left of the old ratty stuffed cat from Lorette. The younger one, Azelma, joined her sister in taunting the seven year old. Their mother simply looked over to them and when they saw her face, the daughters returned to their game, the toy cat kept under close supervision on the table. Lorette merely sat in her corner for a few minutes before Mr. Thenardier put his ledger down on the table.

"Lottie!" he shouted. The girl trembled ad inched over to him, shrinking with every step, her head facing the ground but her big blue eyes looking up at her master. "Don't look at me like that, you done nothing wrong this time." he grumbled. "I want you to go check the port in the cellar. I got me a very important man coming tomorrow."

"Who?" Madame Thenardier piped up.

"None of your business!" he turned back to Lorette. "Why're you still here?"

"I'm afraid of the cellar, sir. May I have a light please?" she asked.

"Ha! Afraid she says. How old are you now? 9?"

"I'm 7, sir."

"Don't correct me." his arm snapped up and he pointed to the cellar door. She flinched as he did so in fear of being struck. "Be off!" she nodded and scurried off to the door.

"Her mother's been slacking with pay." his wife said to him once the door was shut.

"Who's mother?" Mr. Thenardier looked at her with surprise. His wife rolled her eyes and sat up a little straighter.

"Lottie. Lottie's mother hasn't been paying us much lately."

"I know." he said in a low voice.

"Did you ask her for more? The girl keeps getting "sicker" and I don't want to be paying for medicine." She returned to her dishes.

"Well maybe she wouldn't be so sick if you fed her more than bits of bread and moldy leftovers."

"Don't put this on me now! Tiny git like her, that's all she needs!"

Lottie came back covered in dust and cobwebs from the cellar, coughing violently.

"What's the matter with you now, eh?" Thenardier asked her. The girl tried to make out the words 'too much dust' but couldn't. She fell to her knees and her eyes became watery. Thenardier stood up, a smug grin on his face. He slowly walked over to Lorette and picked her up, actually making an act of pretending like he really cared. She shyed away from him, but didn't resist knowing that if she struggled in the great man's arms then she'd have to pay in some way or another that would leave her with a bruise or two. Thenardier's fake smile disappeared as she coughed some more. Mr. Barker realized that the innkeeper man wasn't doing this out of kindness but because he did not want to have to listen to the child. But the barber was still surprised by how gentle the master was being with the girl. He walked over to the counter, the little child in one arm and with the other he picked up a spoon and a bottle of something unrecognizable, for the label had worn off. He returned to his chair and set the girl on his lap. She watched his every move, checking to see how red his face was to determine how sober he was. He poured into the spoon a black, wine like substance from the bottle, then with his free hand gripped the nape of her neck roughly. Lorette protested and struggled but was nothing against the man as he managed to get the liquid in her mouth and then get her to swallow it. He let go of her and she shook as he screwed the cork back into the bottle. He looked at her and let out a low, menacing chuckle. She began to shake more as he reached his hand toward her and pat her roughly on the head, the pushed her off his lap.