My Dearest Éponine,

I'd almost forgotten about that day.

I have to say, you're almost as sweet when you've just woken up as when you're sleeping - your hair sticks out in all directions and you can't stop yawning. It's pretty cute.

I was a bit worried at first, you seemed hesitant to go - I forgot Azelma and your mother would still be sleeping. Azelma's a lovely girl, but I think if she'd woken up we would have had to brought her, and as much as I like her, I'm glad it was just us two.

The journey was indeed a pleasant one - I reckon you'll be happy to know you won the Grantaire bet. Five sous richer that night, I see! I'm glad you enjoyed breakfast too, a friend recommended the café a long time ago. I agree about the Edam - everyone else I knew loved it, it's nice to know I wasn't alone! I don't know what it is about it, I just find it almost bitter in a sense. Strange since that's not the flavour, but I suppose we just have odd taste buds.

Your expression was quite comedic, I must admit - your jaw didn't close properly until we were almost out on the water. I'd never been rowing before, so you weren't the only one who had absolutely no idea what they were doing. I think it was some sort of vine from the willow tree we got stuck in - you did forget to write how you almost fell out of the boat three times trying to untangle us, I was lucky to catch you. You nearly pulled me down once, for such a thin girl you were surprisingly strong.

If we got there at around eight and stayed until quarter to four then we were there for almost eight hours! Time honestly does fly when you're having fun. I noticed you had a few water droplets in your hair from the splashing, and couldn't resist brushing them away. You just smiled cheekily at me and got into the cart.

I actually can't remember whereabouts in Paris we ended up - it wasn't anywhere near Saint Michel, it was right on the outskirts, but I agree, it was a lovely town. I wouldn't have minded living there. But I'm still here in central Paris, it keeps me closer to you. Although admittedly when I married Cosette we moved, to the Rue de Réconfort. Not as high class as the Rue Plumet, but I quite like it. It's closer to your grave, too, which is oddly comforting (ironic, as I believe 'Réconfort' translates into Comfort in the English language).

I wish we'd gone again, they really did do lovey dinners. I notice you seemed to be slightly partial to chicken when it was available, that certainly wasn't the last time you ordered it. I'm not a fan myself, preferring pork. But enough of my culinary habits.

I presume you wrote this on the journey back, or perhaps when I went to use the bathroom, since you haven't written about the evening. So I'll do so instead.

We headed for the Musain after returning the cart. You won the bet of Grantaire's drunkenness (your prediction was singing and falling over the bar twice. You were right on both, I still can't listen to Auld Lang Syne in quite the same way as I used to). Musichetta and Jehan teased us a bit about our "date", but that was to be expected (and you threatening to stand on his neck for a bit soon kept him quiet).

I miss days like this, I don't really do much with Cosette, although I suppose I should. I don't think it'd feel right somehow, but perhaps that's me being selfish.

All my deepest affections,

Marius