A/N: Hey all! Well, I'm glad I finally got another chapter up. This is the one good thing about being sick. Anyway, I want to dedicate this chapter to Grace - I couldn't get a chapter on your birthday, but now here's one. And congrats on being 15! You'll love this chapter. I wrote it with you in mind.
I want to send some special thank you's to my newest readers: Marius Blowthebarricade, eperil, beautifulqueenx, clefaerie and last chapter I forgot to thank Guest24601. So…thank you guys very much. All the support I get is so appreciated. But I know you guys are waiting for this, please enjoy.
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Of Hockey, Harmonies, and Husbands
Chapter 25 - Of Misguided Intentions
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The couple parked their car somewhere is the deep bowels of a parking garage before finally taking the long walk towards Faneuil Hall. As they walked through crowds of miscellaneous people, Montparnasse couldn't help but cringe at the amount of tourists still swarming the street. His grip on Éponine's arm tightened as he pulled her through the vast masses of people. Every time someone would bump into him, he would suppress a growl and Éponine would gently offer him a calming pat on the arm. He just couldn't believe it. Ten o'clock at night and these insects were still out and about.
The tourists were like fleas, little nuisances whose only sole purpose was to make the real inhabitants of Boston's live's miserable. They crowded the streets, stopping mid-stride to take a picture, not realizing how much traffic buildup they would cause on the sidewalk. And most of all, Faneuil Hall was the breeding ground for these pests. Why was it that Brujon insisted on coming to this restaurant?
"It's the one from the show! C'mon 'Parnasse, I grew up watching that stuff."
Oh yeah, Montparnasse scoffed. That's why.
"Is it just me, or do these tourists seem to multiple like rabbits?" Montparnasse said as they approached the plastic-covered green awning with the name Cheers sprawled over ever inch of it.
Éponine stroked his hand lightly with her gloved hand. "They're all just probably out for the New Year. Everyone wants to see the fireworks. I mean, I know I want to."
Montparnasse scowled down at her before lightening his features. "You'll see them," he finally said.
Her face lit up like the sun. "Really? I never have, you know. Oh, this is so exciting."
He chose not to reply as he pulled her along in the line of people to the maitre d'. The women smiled exhaustedly to them. "Hi, how many?"
"I have a reservation," Montparnasse said. "Should be under Moreaux."
She looked down hurriedly over the LED screen in front of her. "Oh, yes. Four. The rest of your party is already here."
"No, there's five."
She faltered a moment as her eyes ran over to Éponine's. "Five? It only says four."
"I'm pretty sure I said five on the phone."
"Oh...well..." She glanced around, eyeing the busy scene in front of her; the masses of people flocking through the restaurant. "Just give me a second."
Montparnasse let out a loud and irritated sigh, rolling his eyes back. "Of course there'd be an issue," he muttered under his breath to Éponine.
She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but he didn't even bother to glance her way. It seemed like an eternity as Éponine and Montparnasse stood by the the maitre d' stand, just waiting for her arrival once again. The people behind on line them seemed to grow within the seconds, standing in an impatient herd.
Finally she returned with a quick hand, waving the couple onward to follow her. So, Montparnasse led Éponine along once again until they saw the faces of Brujon, Claquesous, and Babet.
Each of their eyes nearly doubled as they saw Montparnasse and his arm linked with Éponine's. The three of them were seated at a table for six, three chairs on each side amidst the swarming crowd of people. Brujon and Babet sat on one side, a seat apart, while Claquesous sat across from Brujon at the end of the table. There was barely enough walking room for the couple to get around and take a seat, yet still, Montparnasse pushed his way through and pulled out the chair across from Babet. He gestured with an elbow nudge for Éponine to sit down. As she stood in front of the chair, ready to sit, he stopped her.
"Your coat," he said.
Hastily, she began to peel off her gloves, remove her scarf, and open up the buttons on her coat. Montparnasse stood behind her as he helped glide off the coat from her shoulders and chivalrously placed in on the back of the chair. He motioned for her to sit down and she did so as he pushed in the chair for her.
Once she was taken care of, then Montparnasse took a seat in between her and Claquesous. The boys continued to stare at him in awe as he finally relaxed with an outstretched arm possessively over the back of Éponine's chair.
Montparnasse gave a smirk when he finally caught Brujon's ogling. "What?" he bit out.
Snapping out of his trance, Brujon shook his head. "Nothing. Just...what's she doing here?"
Gazing back over at Éponine, Montparnasse smiled. "She's my wife. I invited her. Got a problem with that?"
"No. Nothing. It's just...this is..."
"...a first," Babet finished with a little smile to Éponine.
"Just..." Brujon began. "I couldn't figure out why they were moving our table before, but now..." He narrowed his eyes just slightly. "Now it makes sense."
Montparnasse rolled his eyes with an impatient sigh, choosing not to comment further. He leaned forward and placed the cocktail menu in front of Éponine. "Pick out something," he told her.
She looked down at it timidly and then placed the regular food menu on top of it. "Um...can I get something to eat before a drink? Just like french fries or something to snack on? I don't really want to drink on an empty stomach."
He scowled to his wife. "Well whose fault was it for not eating dinner then?"
She looked flustered. "Well...I just wasn't too hungry before. I didn't want to eat - "
"No, 'Ponine. We just get drinks on New Year's, okay? It's tradition. Just pick out a drink. That's it." Suddenly, her face dissipated of all happiness and she shrunk in her seat slightly. None of this went unnoticed as Montparnasse just scooted his chair closer to hers so their thighs were now touching and rubbed her shoulder with the hand over her chair. He leaned his face in close to hers and whispered, "Any drink you want. Don't even worry, baby." He pecked her cheek. "We'll have fun tonight, okay?"
The smile lightened her features once again and she nodded.
Montparnasse leaned back in his chair again, his eyes landing on Babet's. "See?" he said snidely.
Babet grimaced and met Éponine's eyes only to receive quite a genuine smile from her.
"Well," Brujon chuckled, sipping on his beer. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to ring in the New Year!"
A waitress dressed in all black finally made her way over to the table and looked to Éponine and Montparnasse. "Hey guys, looks like we're finally all here. So, what can I get you two? Anything to drink first?"
"Oh, we're here just for drinks tonight," Montparnasse answered.
"Great," she said, smiling widely. "So, what can I get you two to drink?"
Montparnasse glanced down at Éponine who was now looking engrossed in the menu. "Know what you want, darling?" he asked.
"You order first," Éponine responded quickly.
He looked back to the blonde haired waitress. "Just do a Guinness Stout for me."
She gave a brief nod and looked to Éponine.
"Right...um. You know...instead of a cocktail, can I have a Bacardi Martini?"
"Yeah," the waitress said. "We can whip one of those up for you."
Éponine smiled. "Thank you...but can you make sure when the bartender makes it, he just does two ounces of Bacardi instead of two and a half?"
"You got it. I'll make sure to tell him."
"Oh!" Babet said, catching her before she walked away. "A maybe a tray of french fries for the table."
She nodded again, making a mental list.
Montparnasse steeled his eyes at Babet. "Wait..." he called to the waitress, not removing his hardened eyes from Babet. "If we're ordering for the table...why not a round of shots too? Make 'em Tequila."
The waitress paused, watching the stare down between the two men. "Yup. I'll see what we can do. Be right back."
As soon as she was gone, the staring match didn't end for them. Montparnasse locked his eyes on Babet, deliberately making him uncomfortable, challenging him, taunting him.
Brujon looked between them worriedly before finally scoffing. "Where did you learn so much about drinks, 'Ponine?" he asked.
Suddenly, she paled, feeling her husband's hard gaze land on her now. "That's what I would like to know as well," he sneered.
Éponine sat there frozen, heat pooling through her veins as every eye at the table turned to her. She glanced to Babet, searching in his eyes for an answer but he had none to give. So, she looked down, gently swirling her finger in a circle on her thigh. "T.V." she said in a questioning tone. "Like the food network, you know."
"The food network?" Montparnasse repeated, brow raised in suspicion.
"Yeah, you know," she said, avoiding her eyes from everyone. "You just pick up random stuff like that all the time. I'll leave the T.V. on when I'm cooking...you know."
"Yeah," Babet cut in. "I know what she's talking about. They do these segments during the commercials all about mixed drinks and things. Probably where she got it."
There was silence. Nothing but the chatter of people around them; their conversations only hums of rhythm as the five sat in stillness. Éponine shifted her eyes nervously as she made no effort to look at anyone, especially Montparnasse. She wanted to cast a grateful gaze to Babet, but decided against it, fearful that her husband might see.
It was only after an eternity of the solitude that Montparnasse's fingers began swirling on her shoulder again and he gave a small nod. "Right," he murmured. "The food network."
Babet finally looked over at Claquesous who was staring behind the bar at something. He was willing to do anything to switch the conversation. "Hey, you've been quiet tonight, man. Got anything to say?"
Claquesous only shrugged, realizing Babet was talking to him and bringing his attention to the table. "Just thinking about them damn Patriots. They better win in the playoffs now that the season's over."
"Good thing their loss to the Bills wasn't anything major," Brujon scoffed.
"They'll win the Super Bowl," Montparnasse added. "Best team in the whole league. They'll kill it."
"I don't know," Claquesous groaned. "Those Seahawks are pretty matched for them."
"They'll win," he deadpanned. "I know they will."
"Hey, we still coming to your house to watch the game?" Brujon asked as he knocked back the rest of his beer.
"Unless you got somewhere better to be?"
"Hey," Éponine said, a broad smile breaking across her face. "The Winter Classic's tomorrow. I'm kinda hoping Chicago wins, wouldn't that be nice?"
Three glowers found their way to her except for Babet who gave a small grin. "Why Chicago?" he asked her.
The smile on her face only seemed to grow. "Blackhawks have never played a Winter classic before - well, I don't think they have. Chicago's a nice city too. And the game is being played in Washington so already the Capitals have the home advantage. And Ovechkin. I can't stand him. I just think he's such a nasty player. You know...all that jazz."
Babet raised his beer glass in the air. "I think I'll drink to that. Here's to Chicago." He tipped his glass back, taking in a gulp.
Involuntarily, Montparnasse's hand clamped on Éponine's shoulder. "It's just a dumb sport. There's nothing interesting about hockey. Just a bunch of imbeciles running around with helmets on."
"Well, I think there is a lot that's interesting about hockey," Babet said with a sly grin. "It's football that's the dumb sport. You know, just a bunch of imbeciles running around with helmets on."
Montparnasse visibly cringed, eyes darkening by mere shades. "You know what I think, Babet? That you should shut the hell up before I make you."
"Oh?" he challenged. "And how would you do that?"
Éponine widened her eyes, seeing the waitress head their way. "Look, our drinks are here. Great timing," she mused.
Her husband gave her a challenging look which she petulantly ignored, watching the waitress hand out their drinks and place the tray of french fries in the center of the table.
Immediately, Éponine reached for a french fry but Montparnasse snatched her wrist, emitting a gasp from her. "No," he scolded. Without releasing her wrist, he grabbed a fry from the basket and brought it to her mouth. Every eye at the table watched on curiously as he fed it to her, still not releasing her wrist. With one final bite of the french fry left, Montparnasse popped it into his own mouth and then smiled. "Now drink," he levelly said.
Upon freeing her wrist, she gently picked up her martini glass and took a shy sip under Montparnasse's watchful gaze.
"How is it?" he asked.
"I like it."
"Good." He took a shot glass from the center of the table and placed it in front of her. "Happy New Year, Éponine. Go ahead."
She stared at him warily. "Won't we all do it together?"
"Just you first," he answered.
Gazing around, she noticed that every eye at the table was on her, watching her every movement, waiting to see what she would do. She picked up the shot glass, staring perplexedly into the clear liquid.
"Go on," her husband prompted.
Trusting him, she lifted the glass to her lips and took in the liquid in one gulp. It burned the whole way down - just as Tequila always did - and landed in her stomach like a bomb. She couldn't even hide the crinkle in her nose from the taste of it. But as she slammed down her empty glass, Montparnasse's smile only emanated.
"Wonderful!" he cheered and slid another one over to her. "Have mine."
"Again?" she questioned.
"You've got it, darling."
Éponine frowned but as she caught her husband's genuine smile, she smiled as well. Now ignoring Babet's sour stare, she lifted Montparnasse's glass. On the count of three, she knocked back the second shot and similarly slammed it back to the table with a resounding thud.
Brujon caught Montparnasse's wicked grin and pushed a third glass closer to her. "Take mine," he said.
Éponine's grin only widened as a sudden giggle escaped her. "I shouldn't," she said. "Not without a few more french fries."
Slyly, her husband pushed the tray out of her reach. "You can handle it, 'Ponine. Three shots aren't going to break you."
"I've still got my martini, though."
"Well, drink that after. C'mon, we're all waiting."
Her stomach already felt like a brick, the two shot sitting heavy in her stomach like lead. She stared at the third glass cautiously, debating it over in her mind. Already, the alcohol was making her head spin, beginning to impair her thinking skills. She was surprised at how quick it was making the world a little woozy and she knew that the more she drank, the worse the feeling would get.
"C'mon," Montparnasse said again, picking up the glass from the table with his right hand and cupping the back of her neck with the left. Carefully, he tipped her head back perfectly, positioning the glass above her lips and smiled. "Ready?" he asked, receiving a small nod from her. Instantly, Montparnasse tipped the whole glass into her mouth, watching her swallow it in one gulp. "Yes!" he said.
She fell forward on the table, face scrunching in disgust for the foul liquid before her mouth broke into a smile. "Surprisingly, I think it's beginning to taste better." She hiccuped and then giggled.
It was only a matter of moments before she started to feel that familiar weightlessness in her mind and the world around her began to whirl a bit faster, the feeling essentially becoming more fun.
"Want another one?" her husband asked, pushing another glass her way.
She grimaced just slightly, not being able to repress a smile for long. "Doesn't Babet or Claquesous want theirs?"
"Nah," Montparnasse answered.
"I want mine," Babet said, seizing one of the shots from the center of the table.
Her husband's eyes narrowed. "Well, Claquesous doesn't want his, right Claquesous?"
The brute tore his gaze from the television again. "She can have it," he answered.
Instantly, Montparnasse pushed the remaining glass closer to her. "Here you go."
Éponine picked up the glass and looked to Babet. "Wanna go together?" she asked. In turn, Babet charily eyed around and picked up the remaining shot glass. Éponine only chuckled. "Ready? One...two...three!" Together, they each swallowed the contents of the glass and Éponine guffawed as soon as she struck her glass back to the table along with the other empty glasses. "Ha!" she yelled. "That was great."
Montparnasse leaned forward and graciously pushed her martini glass closer to her. "Well go ahead, darling, drink up. You earned it after that."
The second Montparnasse let go of the glass, Babet clasped the base of it. "Don't you think you should eat a bit first, Éponine? You don't want to be drinking so much on an empty stomach."
"Hey Babet," Montparnasse sneered, "what did I tell you? Shut up." He pet Éponine on the shoulder once again. "Don't listen to him, just go ahead and drink."
She teetered side to side, her body swaying slightly as she looked between the two men. "It's almost the New Year? Right, 'Parnasse? Oh!" Her eyed lightened. "When's the fireworks? We'll still see them, right?"
Montparnasse removed his hand from her shoulder just to tuck the fallen strands of hair behind her ear. "Yes, darling, but only if you drink up first."
Her hands gripped the glass faster than a magnet and she brought it to her lips.
"Éponine," Babet said again. "Slow down, it'll only go straight to your head if you drink it that fast."
"Leave her alone, Babet," Brujon interrupted. "If that's how she wants to drink it, then let her be."
"She's fine, Babet," Montparnasse said. "Trust me, I know my wife."
Éponine swallowed a gulp of her martini and placed it back to the table; a grin coating her face. She leaned closer to Montparnasse, resting her spinning head right in the crook of his arm. His only response was tucking his arm around her and pulling her tighter against him.
"What do you say, 'Ponine? Another round?" he asked.
She gave a shrug. "No...don't waste your money," she drawled.
"Well, if you want more, it's not a waste. Besides, it's New Year's. This is a special occasion."
She shut her eyes for a moment. "And what about you? If you and I drink, how are we getting home?"
Montparnasse smiled, gently combing her hair down her face. "Don't worry about me. Tonight, you just have fun, 'Ponine. I'll drive us home. Don't you want to have fun, darling?" he asked accompanied with a kiss to the top of her head.
She giggled at his affection and slowly lifted herself away from him. "Alright," she decided, reaching for her martini glass. "Let's have some fun." She finished off the martini in one more sip and instantly her hands were crawling along Montparnasse.
Her husband didn't mind as she shimmied up next to him, hand running all along his torso while he still held protectively onto her. "Waitress!" he called, grasping the blonde's attention. He waved his hand, gesturing to his table. "Another round of shots."
Brujon was watching the couple amused while Babet only frowned at them. Éponine was making nothing discreet as she scooted herself up higher in the chair to place a kiss to Montparnasse's cheek. He didn't even seem to bat an eyelash as he reached for his beer and took another sip. Éponine finally retired, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing.
In another ten minutes, the waitress arrived with another round of Tequila. She placed down each little glass and scooped up the empty ones. "All good here? Can I get you anything else?" she asked.
"You can get her another martini," Montparnasse answered. He looked down to Éponine who still stayed wrapped in his arms. "Right, 'Ponine? You want another?"
She nodded against him. "And I still want to see the fireworks," she mumbled.
"I know, baby."
The waitress gave her own wary nod before she turned around to fetch another martini.
Left alone with themselves now, Montparnasse picked up another shot glass and held it to Éponine's lips. "Ready, dear?"
"'Ponine, why don't you eat some more before you have another?" Babet interrupted.
In an instant, Éponine lifted herself from Montparnasse's chest and reached for the french fries but Montparnasse was quicker and pushed them closer to Brujon. "No, 'Ponine. Why don't you have some more to drink?"
She looked quickly between her husband and Babet, trying to figure out what to do. But in the haze of her mind, nothing was making any sense. But the time she finally decided to shrug, Montparnasse had the glass to her lips again. She didn't even have time to respond before he shoved the liquid down her throat.
He grinned broadly and as she saw, she mimicked his expression with her own broad grin before falling back against him.
"How do you feel?" he asked her.
"Wonderful," she said, beaming from ear to ear.
"Where are there fireworks?" Brujon asked, this time taking a shot himself.
Montparnasse rested a friendly stare to Brujon as his right arm crossed over himself, absentmindedly drawling fingers along Éponine's thigh. "Eh, come midnight they should be doing them outside the Commonplace. I'm not too sure, but it shouldn't be too hard to find." His fingers danced closer and closer up her thigh, sinking down between her legs and parting them slightly.
Suddenly, she shifted her position, turning her body to face him and nibbling on his earlobe. She moaned just quietly enough in his ear and her hands began to explore his torso once again. "I think I need to go to the bathroom..." she whispered in her husband's ear. "Wanna come?"
Her husband held the widest smile imaginable, already feeling heat pool in his lower depths. "Not yet," he responded lowly to her.
"You two gonna take off then and go see them?" Brujon interrupted.
Montparnasse gave a shrug. "I've been thinking about it. She really wants - " His breath hitched suddenly, his eyes bulging. Reaching a careful hand under the table, he brought Éponine's hands out from between his legs and held onto it.
Brujon gave him a charmed smile, smirking to the couple. "Perhaps a room instead of seeing fireworks?"
Montparnasse chuckled as Éponine continued to work her lips along his neck. "Yeah, she gets a little handsy when she's had a bit to drink."
Babet only scowled at them, anger forming in his bones, ridding him or his underlying cowardliness. "So maybe she should lay off the drinks? You know, maybe you could...I don't know...stop giving them to her," he said.
"Éponine's had more than this before. Relax, Babet, she's fine," Montparnasse replied. He shifted Éponine down enough so she wasn't completely on top of him now. "Now 'Ponine, I've been meaning to ask you all night..."
"Mmm?" she murmured, a sly smiled hanging from her lips.
"Where were you earlier this afternoon? You know after work?"
Her mind fell blank. "Hmm?"
"C'mon, 'Ponine," he said with a little shake. "You know what I'm talking about. You came home from work late tonight. I called your office phone and you never picked up. So where were you?"
Babet slammed the table with his palm, causing a few patrons in close proximity to jump. "For Christ's sake, 'Parnasse! Is that was this is about?"
"Stay out of this, Babet," Montparnasse sneered.
"Just leave her alone 'Parnasse. So what if she came home a little late?"
"A little? Try almost two hours late. But her car never left her job, so that's what I'm wondering." He turned his eyes down to Éponine again. "Where were you?"
"This is ridiculous," Babet said, interrupting Éponine as she was about to speak. "Why did you have to get her drunk to tell you? Just ask her. This is sick, 'Parnasse!"
Montparnasse leaned forward, his deadly eyes boring holes through Babet. "Then you try asking her. 'Ponine lies like a rug. You can't trust anything she says and I'm tried of not knowing the truth. Wives do not keep secrets from their husbands."
"A-an...and so what? What are you gonna do when she tells you, huh?"
"Depends where she really was...or who she was with."
"And what would happen if she was with me?"
Montparnasse stilled, eyes blackening for just a moment before he barked out a laugh. "And why would she be with you?"
"'Cause I took her for a drink. Okay, 'Parnasse? I picked her up from work and bought her a drink. That was it." Babet heaved a sigh, falling back in his chair as he looked over at Éponine, sullenly laying in Montparnasse's grasp, eyes dazed and tired, but a smile still gracing her lips.
Montparnasse was quiet, contemplating this. "That true, 'Ponine?"
Babet was nodding his head to her, hoping she would do the same and mimic her.
"Yeah," she said tiredly. "Except, I took the bus."
Her husband's eyes widened and suddenly the silence took over the table. "The bus?" he questioned.
"Mmhmm...Babet didn't drive me."
His steel eyes met Babet's. "Then why did you say you did?" Montparnasse asked.
"Oh, what does it matter, 'Parnasse. Yeah, I didn't pick her up in my car. We rode the bus. It's just a slip of the tongue, just something you say. You know my car's got a faulty ignition, I can't always drive it."
Montparnasse's face contorted into vexation as his hand balled into a fist on the table. "Why would you even think to take her out?"
"Oh, you want to know why?" Babet taunted. "Because of how shitty you've been to her! She deserved to do something nice. You are so mean to her."
"Yeah? How can you tell me I'm mean? I'm the mean one? I'm taking her out, aren't I? She's all over me! She knows I care about her. She loves it. She loves me. She doesn't need you in her life giving her false information or making her think things about me that aren't true, alright? Just stay the hell away from her, okay? She's my wife - not your friend." Montparnasse averted his angered eyes from the stoner and picked up another shot glass. "Sit up, 'Ponine," he said, nudging her in the arm. He held the glass to her lips again. "Ready, one, two, three." He tipped the glass back harshly, and she swallowed it lazily, the grin still never fading from her face.
She laughed loudly over nothing in particular, reaching for another glass. Abruptly, Babet stood from the table and emptied his pockets of money, not even counting how much he placed on the table.
"What's this?" Brujon scoffed. "You leaving already, Babet? It's not even midnight yet."
"Stand up, Éponine," Babet said coldly, ignoring Brujon. "I'm taking you home."
Montparnasse set his jaw. "Are you freaking kidding me right now?"
Babet took a deep breath and stepped around the table. "I'm not." He reached down to Éponine and clasped her upper arm. "C'mon, 'Ponine," he said calmly and sweetly.
She chuckled, rising to her feet as her head fell back a bit. But in a second, Montparnasse pulled her other arm down roughly, yanking on her shirt. The eyes of others in the packed restaurant were beginning to notice the growing argument developing, some turning heads, some just looking on. But the boys at the table merely pretended none of them were there.
"Get your hands off of my wife," Montparnasse spit as she fell back against him. "Don't you ever touch her."
"I just think it's time for 'Ponine to go home," Babet replied.
"Why? So you can take her home, back to your house?"
"She's just had too much to drink. I'll take her back to your house - "
"Just stay out of it," Brujon hollered, rolling his eyes to Claquesous who was suddenly now interested in what was going on.
"Why? So then you can have her in my bed? Like hell!" Montparnasse flared.
Éponine hugged Montparnasse tightly, burying her face into his chest. "I want to see the fireworks," she mumbled. "Can we go see them?"
With a sneer to Babet, Montparnasse picked himself and Éponine up and reached for his wallet. He produced enough to cover the drinks in cash and threw it on the table. "I'll take you to see the fireworks," he whispered in her ear. "Let's go."
Babet now stood, watching as Montparnasse dressed Éponine in her coat and buttoned up the buttons for her. She stumbled backwards, only to laugh as Montparnasse caught her sleeve. He pulled her in close and Éponine willingly wrapped her arms around her husband, nuzzling against him.
"I don't want to leave you," Éponine said. "I don't know why Enjolras wants me to leave you."
At that second, the air seemed to leave the restaurant, a deathly hallow befalling them, adding a new layer of tension to each of them present.
Babet shut his eyes, palming his forehead. "God, Éponine..." he muttered.
Montparnasse gripped her arms, squeezing tighter with each passing second, face falling to stone as he glared at Babet. "What did she just say?"