A/N- continuing to meander through this thing. I'm thinking it will end the moment Thenardier sends her over to deliver the letter to Marius. So fear not, brave readers, it's already dusk and there are only so many hours in the day.

Emerging back on the street she considered it only a minor success. She had not been taken indoors for the transaction and he certainly was rude, but the bit of money she'd negotiated was likely enough for some broth and bread and maybe even a bit of pastry. Gentleman that he was, he'd been kind enough to spit on the money before tossing it carelessly in her direction. Forced to her knees for the second time that afternoon (third if you counted church, though that had already faded from recollection) she crawled around to retrieve the pieces.

With moderately full pockets she emerged from the narrow alley and appraised the street scene before her. There was a sort of entrepreneurial bounce in her step. Though she was not explicitly proud of her side business, she found it infinitely preferable to begging. Calculating and innately business-like, Eponine felt no guilt over the operation and considered it a sight more respectable to offer a service in exchange for money than to simply ask for hand-outs. "Only does in a pinch anyway," she told herself. "Not as if I'm out there every night with the trash ripping off lousy pigs and rouging my cheeks."

A premature dusk was near at hand, such was the character of Paris is February. Eponine scarcely noticed the darker gray edging out the lighter one as she hung back observing the passers-by. She searched each face, though she couldn't say for what. "Plenty ripe for picking, but I've no need for that now," she thought as she fingered the coins in her pocket. Though she could have easily lifted a wallet or two and greatly improved her situation, she was not greedy. Poverty has a strange way of preserving certain virtues. It is not uncommon for the poor to beg, borrow, or steal only what they need to make it through the day.

Shaking off her reverie, she strode down the street in the direction of the bake shop. She'd taken only a few steps before she felt a tug at her skirt. Instinctively, she turned with a raised hand to confront whoever had done the tugging. With money on her she felt particularly vulnerable but equally brazen and ready to fight. No need, though. The tug came from Azelma.

"'Zelma, what in hell do you want?" she asked harshly. With her weakling sister tagging along Eponine knew the prospect of one hearty meal would be remote. Rather, two meager meals would have to suffice, with the bulk of hers going to her sister, who seemed inhumanly capable of storing endless amounts of food despite her body's stubborn refusal to grow or hold weight.

"I been looking all afternoon. Where'd you go?" Azelma asked pitifully. "It's cold. You took the only coat. Papa kicked me out and I been bloody freezing since."

Eponine sighed and tossed the coat at her sister. "Take it. What do I care? The sooner I freeze to death the sooner I'll be rid of the lot of you."

She turned and began to walk away. Azelma followed struggling with the too-long coat. At the corner Eponine paused and turned to look at her sister. It was a ridiculous sight, that tiny thing dwarfed further by that coat meant for a full-grown man. Eponine had to smirk and with reluctant goodwill she took hold the bottom hem and began to tear. When she was done the coat fell just at Azelma's ankles. The girl was cautious with her gratitude. "I'da done it myself later," she said by way of thanks.

"Well, I hope you're happy. It's only fit for you now, you useless runt."

Eponine shivered and turned to continue down the street. Azelma held back with her hands shoved deep in the coat pockets. "You coming?" Eponine asked without patience.

Azelma shook her head and took off down a side street. Alone again, and glad for it, Eponine suppressed any puzzlement at her sister's behavior and made her way the extra block or two to the bake shop. It was only as the warmly lit haven of bread and confections loomed before that she realized she'd left her money in the coat pocket. She cursed loudly, causing all the proper folk within earshot to gaze at her with shock and disgust.

"That bloody, stupid whore! I'll tear her arms off and beat her bleeding with them if she spends so much as a goddamn sou!"

She took off running, still cursing and grumbling. To most she looked wild and insane and if Azelma could see her she would have likely have been struck with a fear greater than even their father could instill in her.