The Marble Man
Disclaimer: Still not mine. I know, that's just unacceptable.
AN: Yep, it is time for the second chapter already. I want to thank everyone so very much for the lovely response I have gotten so far. Thank you, it means the world to me!
This chapter is dedicated to the darling Kara (choirgirlohs), who had her sweet sixteen yesterday. Your special fic is coming hon!
Anyway, on to the fic!
Chapter two:
Jehan is pretty – there is no other way to describe him, because handsome doesn't quite cover the long red-golden braid swinging over his shoulder or the big green eyes, the playful nose, and the mouth that is always smiling. He looks almost waifish, but she is hesitant to doubt his strength, seeing as he lifts her bag over his shoulder with a completely ridiculous amount of ease.
"I take one shift at work and you bring a girl home?" Jehan is obviously teasing R.
"Something new and different for us," R replies while they all head upstairs. "I was trying to be sarcastic, but it really is new. We never have girls over."
This is either something ridiculously sinister or it is as simple and obvious as the chemistry between the two men she is currently following up the stairs. The stairs are rickety and they creak ominously under her feet, but seeing as both of the men have managed to get upstairs without falling or breaking something, she thinks her too skinny self should be fine. And with a final creak, she reaches the door to the attic.
"That's because Marius is too afraid to bring Cosette over," Jehan grins almost proudly at that. "And the rest of the guys can't think with their upstairs brains yet."
Honestly, at this point she is tuning most of the conversation out, because she is too busy casing the attic to figure out all of her possible escape routes, if they should end up being necessary – a girl's gotta be prepared, right? So far, she notices several windows that she can use for a quick jaunt over the few rooftops that this tiny town possesses, and she can probably slide down the banister easy enough to get past someone – she is small, but she is fast and deceptively strong. And she is also ridiculously paranoid.
"And for some reason Bahorel doesn't like to have his sister over," the sarcasm is dripping from every syllable out of R's mouth.
"Could that be because he doesn't want there to be impromptu threesomes again?" Jehan discusses this so calmly that he might as well be talking about the weather. "Joly and Bossuet have no problems with that – as we very well know."
Holy shit these guys are what you'd call "interesting characters" – they are so at ease talking about threesomes that she is actually kind of impressed. She is impressed enough to seriously consider being their friend just to see what kind of shenanigans go on with them and their other friends in this house.
"Was that a test?" she asks calmly.
"How are you not screaming and running away?" R seems proud of her and frustrated at the same time. "Most people we meet can't get away fast enough."
Now that she has her escape routes mapped out – her favorite is the one out the side window that would take her into the garden, which has a lot of trees and bushes to hide in or behind – she can look at the furniture inside of this room. There is a tiny couch that looks old enough to be ridiculously comfortable, and a bed that has not yet decided if it wants to be big enough for one or two people. This attic is basically an entire apartment, complete with a tiny bathroom – she can shower in peace without having to think of bothering the men. Shit, this is better than her fucking dorm room.
"I have a high tolerance for this brand of weird," she says with a straight face.
"You kind of have to have that to be able to deal with us," Jehan gently places her bag on the floor for her. "It's in the job requirement."
She rolls her eyes at these dorks and looks at all her earthly belongings on the floor in front of her – everything she is, was, and ever shall be; all of those things are in that worn down bag. It is not much, but it is all she will ever need.
"Anything you don't like on your pizza?" R gets ready to leave her to settle in.
"Nah, I'm easy," she says purposefully, winking at the men.
That makes them laugh, and their taunts to each other echo through the attic long after they arrive downstairs, leaving her alone with her thoughts for a little while – and most of those thoughts are of her statue, of her protesting man.
She is going to be right back in the gallery when it opens the next morning.
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But first there is dinner.
After she unpacks she heads downstairs immediately, hoping to figure out these guys a bit better and to get a distraction from the stupid fucking statue.
Things are different than before though – there is no laughter coming from downstairs and there is loud music playing in a language that she does not speak. All that she can get from the music is that it does not sound particularly happy, and that makes her start worrying about her new roommates immediately. She feels like she knows them already, and she has seen darkness in R already – enough darkness to make her worried about him when a voice sounds like it is in pain and nobody else is talking.
The door flies open then and she flinches at the sound.
"Please tell me I am not late for pizza night," the young man from the front desk waltzes into the house like he owns it. "Because my day was terrible and only pizza and the love of a beautiful woman will be able to make it better. And since the last thing I'm about to find in this house is a beautiful woman – let alone one who will love me, I…"
As the young man takes in the state of the house, he seems to know that his speech is best kept to himself. He seems a lot more exuberant now that he is not desperately trying to make his visitors come back to the museum.
"Jehan, R?" he calls out his friends' names over the music.
A female singer is screaming about something and she can actually feel the anguish in the woman's voice – so much that it makes her a little uncomfortable. This is not the same house she arrived in less than an hour ago, and now she is left more than a little uncomfortable with the current atmosphere and wondering if it is too late to leave.
"Damn it, did you guys cook again?" the friend does not seem too happy. "You know all too well what happens if you two start fighting over dinner!"
She is obviously missing the capability to connect these particular dots, but now that she has deemed the friend relatively sane, she feels safe enough to continue her journey downstairs. The stairs still creak obnoxiously, alerting the guy of her presence long before he can actually see her – but still, the surprised look he gets in his eyes when she actually gets into view is definitely something to behold.
"I stand corrected," he mutters, grinning widely at her. "Hello milady, I am Courfeyrac."
Now he is actually trying to flirt with her, but she ends that with an elegant arch of her eyebrow, and he is back to his surprise that his two friends have actually managed to get a girl into the house. And judging by the crazy amounts of chemistry R and Jehan appear to have, she doubts that they need to have a girl present.
"I'm Éponine," she tells him her name. "R was kind enough to let me crash in the attic."
They shake hands when she finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, and then she is lost for words – having trouble thinking with the music wailing at such a terrible volume and the two guys apparently fighting over something as ridiculous as food.
"This is quite the situation you're wandering into," Courfeyrac notices how awkward she is feeling, and he leads her into the direction of the kitchen. "R and Jehan are fun guys, except for when they're being moody shits because they're fighting over something."
He steps into the living room briefly, and suddenly the noise is gone and all she can hear is her own breathing and soft crying – and that breaks her heart until it abruptly stops when the guy in question figures out that the soft sobs are now audible because the music is no longer playing. She thinks it has to be Jehan, because R would drown his sorrows in a bottle of liquor or another intoxicating vice of his.
They both have some things to hide, some things that they are not currently dealing with – at least not in any kind of healthy way. It seems like there are much deeper things going on underneath that happy exterior they display.
"They were just going to order pizza," she figures Courfeyrac should have all the information before he tries to fix whatever it is that is going on at the moment.
"Oh damn it," Courfeyrac looks decidedly unhappy with this situation. "Not this childishness again, you idiots."
Her explanation makes him march into the living room and sit both of the guys down on the couch by force, and then he proceeds to stare them down like they are delinquent students and he is the mighty principal who gets to decided just what the punishment will be. And the punishment will be severe, especially since R and Jehan just continue to mope and avoid each other's eyes, both pretending they are alone on the couch.
"Apologize, both of you," Courfeyrac orders, sounding stern. "And do it quickly, because I'm tired of your bullshit and there's a lovely lady waiting for her pizza."
"He was being an asshole for no reason," Jehan starts, showing her a darker and more fierce side than she was expecting of him. "I was just asking what we should order and of course Mr. Dickhead asked for a fucking meat lovers pizza!"
Assuming that Jehan is a vegetarian, that is a really dick move to play. Honestly, these two have been living together for way too long if they have these dramatic fights over something like this. Also, they are obviously trying to keep the other person from getting too close to them – or at least, close enough to realize the serious case of feelings that they both have going on. Can they just admit to it already?
"Just because you don't eat dead animals, doesn't mean I don't get to," R rolls his eyes.
"Well you can buy your own damn pizza then," Jehan finally faces his friend.
They are facing each other now, both looking extremely defensive and ready to start another fight over something as simple as what should be put on their pizza. Obviously, both of these guys have very strong emotions, and since they are very close to each other, they know the exact thing to say to upset the other person. And they just keep doing it, falling into the same old traps and keeping their relationship permanently away from anything resembling love or romance.
Honestly, all she can think is that there has to be something more to it than just the choice of what they are going to put on their pizza. Because fighting this much over something that simple? That is just ridiculous – even for these two.
"How about we order two pizzas for the four of us?" she tries to propose a solution. "One can be vegetarian, and the other can have dead animal on it."
Both of the guys shrug, and she takes that to mean that they can both accept that solution, and Courfeyrac seems to be alright with that plan as well. She knows that this is only a temporary solution, but at least her music-induced headache is fading and everyone is talking to each other again. That is all she wants right now.
That and some fucking pizza – because she's starving!
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They are completely without conflict until Courfeyrac randomly decides that they just have to go out to "the bar" – he uses those words with a kind of sacredness attached to them that should only be used for religious artifacts.
"What is this sacred place?" she mocks Courfeyrac's awe of it with ease.
"He's taking about the Corinthe," Jehan is the only one who is not literally jumping up and down in excitement about venturing outside. "It's just the local bar."
To be quite fair to Courf and R, they have shared quite a few beers between the two of them, leaving them giddy and hyper enough to actually start jumping up and down in happiness and the mere mention of what she assumes is their favorite bar. They are both in the upswing again, and apparently they really do not appreciate even the slightest insinuation that this Corinthe is not the holy place they seem to think it is – they are currently glaring at her and at Jehan, in a rather comic fashion.
"There is no just about it," R is the first one to argue with them.
"It is the best place in town," Courf joins R's side of this conversation. "The darling Musichetta and her brother run that place better than most clubs I have seen."
Well, she has never been the clubbing kind of girl, so she would not know too much about that. She is the girl who spends her days and nights fixing the lines on her latest drawing and then falls asleep halfway into her first beer. In college, she was known as the girl with the crazy tolerance for alcohol, but it has been a while since she let go like that – after what happened, she just couldn't do it.
"Musichetta is perfectly happy with the two boyfriends she already has," Jehan's mouth is twisted in a wry grin. "Stop flirting with her, Courf."
She is not going to think about that statement too much, except to mock Courf a bit about his flirting – because he is that affable kind of guy who sees being made fun of as an expression of appreciation. And she does appreciate the lighthearted humor that these guys have around each other – even though there is so much more under the surface that they have yet to show to her. But right now, she is both scared and excited by the idea of a fun night out with the guys.
They are planning to introduce her to all of their friends, even though she has warned them that she does not always make the best first impression on people. They don't care, and they have repeatedly mentioned that their friends are enough like them to appreciate her. That was after Courf gave her and R a friendly command to shut up after the 45-minute discussion on the possible merits of Jackson Pollock.
"Let's go," Courf now leads the way to the door.
"Please no drunken singing this time," R rolls his eyes at his friend, only to follow right behind Courf, and dragging her along for the ride. "Save it for karaoke night!"
R is being quite gentle with her, even though he is dragging her along with him, right out of the house before she even has the time to grab more than her ten-euro bill that she always carries for emergencies. Well, if they want her to go along with them so badly, they also have to be the ones to pay. Her small stream of money will soon run dry.
"We don't want you to get arrested again," Jehan locks the door behind them.
Now that is a story she would like to hear more about – especially if it involves bouts of drunken singing on the dark streets of Musain. Oh, she will probably hear of it eventually, since she is going to be surrounded by drunken men and only a few other women – and men have the tendency to tell stories that they deem impressive, or to start making crude jokes to out-tough each other.
"Follow me, m'lady," Courf does an exaggerated bow and holds out his arm.
"Thank you kind sir," she takes it with only a brief roll of her eyes.
It is a smart ploy, because Courf offering her his arm leaves R and Jehan to walk side by side, and she and Courf both pretend like they are not casually glancing at the other two and hoping something will happen there. They are playing matchmaker already, even though she hardly knows any of these guys – only she kind of gets them.
"It's only two blocks away?" she asks when she finds herself in front of the Corinthe.
"The town is not that big, you know," Courf grins at her. "You've pretty much seen all of it at this point. The museum is right at the center square, where all the public areas and stores are – and the rest of the town is just the surrounding houses. It's not much."
Not much might even be an understatement, but she is willing to stick around for a little while if that means that she will find her passion for art again – and that she will manage to get the protesting man's face right. Because damn it if she is not extremely frustrated about just not getting him and his story – she will though. She will get there.
"Welcome to the Corinthe," Courf opens the door for her.
The summer heat has lingered in this bar, but it still carries that comfy café atmosphere that tells of spending long nights drinking beers and talking with friends in one of the booths. The majority of the group in the back shouts loudly when Courf enters, so she assumes that those guys are the infamous people she knows nothing about.
"Musichetta, the usual," Courf smiles at the woman behind the bar. "And one extra for my friend Éponine."
This Musichetta, the exotic woman behind the bar, is a tiny elf compared to the hulking brute standing next to the elf, on the same side of the bar. The brute is looking at her with the intimidating kind of curiosity while he is cleaning some of the used glasses. At the same time, Musichetta just smiles at her and frowns at Courf.
"Let your friend order what she wants," Musichetta gently admonishes him.
"We start with a round of shots," the brute grins at Musichetta and starts pouring drinks into shot glasses at a speed that makes it impossible to take her eyes off him.
Damn, she wishes she were that good at bartending back when she did it!
"Why must you always do this?" Musichetta sounds exasperated now.
"It's an ancient Corinthe tradition, sis," the brute shows a dimpled grin at both of them.
Wait, these two are actually siblings? The hulking brute with the slightly non-Caucasian/maybe-Asian coloring is related to the tiny pixie with the black curls and the bright smile? So yeah, she can see some things that are similar, but it is still a bit of an odd couple look – of the Laurel and Hardy kind.
"Help me up," Musichetta motions to her brother.
And with that, the guy actually hoists his sister onto the actual physical bar, and with a quick stomp of her tiny feet, Musichetta manages to get everyone's attention.
"We're welcoming our new friend Éponine with a round of shots," Musichetta looks fierce, and she is staring most determinedly at her new friends in the back. "I swear, if any of you behaves like more of an idiot than usual, Bahorel will kick you all out!"
Honestly – the guys look way more terrified of Musichetta than they are of her big badass brother Bahorel. Okay, she really fucking loves alliteration like that, but that was not the point, because here is this girl who is barely over five feet tall intimidating about a dozen guys who are up to a head taller than her. And it is awesome.
"I'm coming down," Musichetta warns her before quickly jumping off the bar and sticking the landing with a ridiculous amount of ease. "So, now that that's done…"
She closes her mouth quickly, trying not to seem too much in awe of who she is sure is going to be the closest female friend that she has ever had. When Musichetta hands her a shot and shoos her brother into the back with the rest of the drinks, she is left trying to find her words – but since that is not working, she just slams the shot down quickly and relishes in the burn that wakes her up again.
"So, you're the only girl Jehan and R have actually taken home with them," Musichetta gets right to business, and she can only appreciate that.
"Are those two ever going to do it already?" she asks in return, sneaking a quick peek at her friends who are roughhousing together in a booth in the back. "I've only known them for a few hours, but they have chemistry powerful enough to power a whole city."
That makes Musichetta laugh, and the laughter is hoarse enough to make a sharp contrast to her sweet voice that carries a slight accent. She can't actually make out what kind of accent it is, but it makes her words sound sweet until she gets angry enough to yell and get up onto a bar.
"Let me give you a quick rundown of who's who," the other woman sits down on a bar stool and starts pointing at the men. "You know our artists, Jehan and R, and our resident self-proclaimed ladies man Courfeyrac. The guy next to Courf is my Joly, he's a med student in the next town over – he's a bit of a hypochondriac, so please don't tell him anything about any kind of itches or colds you might have. I beg of you."
Her Joly turns out to be a rather ordinary-looking fellow with a pleasant smile on his face as he sips from what appears to be a glass of water and he jokes with Courfeyrac about something. His cheeks are shaven – giving him this sweet boyish look – and his hair looks like a bit of a mess. He looks like a cute little brother type guy to her.
"My Bossuet is right there," Musichetta has located her other boyfriend. "He's the sexy bald guy. He has such bad luck though, and weird stuff tends to happen around him, so don't be too surprised. He calls me his good luck charm."
Okay, so Bossuet is dark-skinned and not unattractive, with shining white teeth when he grins. Though he is a bit jittery and he almost slams a glass out of someone's hands three times within just the short time she is watching him, she still thinks him easily approachable and someone she could see herself talking too quite easily.
"Sorry to interrupt the introduction speech," the guy with glasses comes walking up to them with his hands raised to defend himself, "I really have to get home."
His glasses are just about sliding off his nose, and he fixes them with a quick gesture before pulling out his wallet and handing Musichetta a few bills to settle his check for the night. Her friend huffs at him good-naturedly, and it seems like an age-old ritual for Musichetta and this man whose gentleness just radiates from him – just like the professor look he is sporting. She has him pegged as a student immediately.
"Must you be the only responsible one?" Musichetta smiles at him.
"I have kids to teach in the morning," is his quick response. "I am really sorry that I will not have the time to chat with you tonight, Mademoiselle Éponine. But I will introduce myself. I am Alain Combeferre, and it is a pleasure to meet you! Feel free to call me Alain, but I must say that almost all of my friends choose to call me 'Ferre."
Oh, so he is not a student, but rather a teacher. Yes, she can see him being the kind young teacher that all the kids love, because he would know literally everything, and the one all the young moms – and even some of the older ones – would drool over.
"It is nice to meet you, 'Ferre," she shakes his hand with a smile.
They share quick grin before Combeferre exits stage left – or just through the front door, because that's all there is. The raucous sounds from the back area have not ceased, and when she takes a quick look over there, she finds Bahorel the brute mainlining just as much booze as the rest of the guys, without even appearing fazed by it. It seems odd that they hardly even notice that their serious friend has gone home.
"It is a crime against humanity that 'Ferre isn't a father already," Musichetta ponders.
While she is sure that Musichetta is not about to volunteer for the job, she still sees the look on her new friend's face – it is not pity, it is a genuine hope for her friend 'Ferre to find happiness in someone, like she has found in both of her boyfriends.
That is only an assumption, but Musichetta's facial expressions tell a thousand words.
"It is almost as much of a crime against humanity as Feuilly's hat," another very telling facial expression crosses her friend's face. "That's Feuilly, by the way. He works at the local crafts store – he can make just about any kind of furniture. That is a talent, but his complete lack of fashion sense is his curse. Take off the hat, idiot!"
A reflexive wince escapes her at the volume of that last sentence, but it turns out to actually work on the guys, because they take the hat off their friend's head and start another ridiculous discussion, while pointing in her direction.
"Éponine, they're asking for you," Bahorel has finally returned with an empty tray.
"I can't keep my boys waiting," she winks slyly and sends another grin in Musichetta's direction before pushing away from the bar and towards the loud screams of her boys.
It is going to be a long night, and she is not sure that she will even care about the eventual hangover and embarrassing moments that will undoubtedly occur. Judging by the plastic cups on the tables, these little boys are about to get their asses kicked by an actual beer pong champion – and they will not even know what is happening.
"Who needs to get his ass kicked most?" she asks, hoping there is someone who will want to be on her team in this game. "Just take a number and I'll get to you in due time."
In her trek over to the back of the bar, she barely noticed a young man following right behind her. His freckles aren't too obvious in the dim lighting of the Corinthe, but she can tell that his face is covered in the cute little spots – overall, this guy has distinct hints of being handsome and adorable, and she smiles at him sweetly. Just what she needs!
"I'm on her team," the new arrival announces.
"Who thinks he's man enough to take us on?" she knows how to hit where it hurts.
Courfeyrac is desperate to prove himself, and he is soon joined by the calm Feuilly.
"Marius, you traitor," Courfeyrac exaggerates how upset he is.
"I like to be on the winning team," Freckles, who is apparently named Marius, is quick to banter with Courf before he turns to smile at her. "Marius Pontmercy, at your service!"
He holds out his hand and she takes it, giving it a firm shake – she really wants to make a good impression on him. A cutie with a smart mind – that is not a kind of person she comes across often, especially not one who is actually interested in women.
"What are the official rules around here?" she wants to make sure there are no calls about her cheating or about breaking the rules halfway into the game.
"10 cups," Courf faces her with a pompous grin that will soon be gone, "bouncing and re-racking are allowed. Cups will be filled up to the ridges, and the ball must be cleaned after each shot. No fingering or blowing is the ball is spinning on the edge, and in the unlikely event that you both make the shot on your turn; you can each have one extra turn. No more rollbacks after that one, though. And shutouts will be called by the winning team only – no one else is allowed to get involved."
Taking a quick look at Marius to see if there are any rules that surprise him – if there are, those rules have been added because they are playing her. But no, Marius hardly reacts to most of these rules, with the exception of the last one, because he starts chuckling softly at that one – probably fondly remembering the reason for that rule.
"Sounds fair," she nods, accepting the rules. "Let's do it!"
The cups are mostly stacked already, so there isn't much for her to do except to get a feel for this table they are playing on, and to stretch her arm muscles a bit – because it really has been quite a while since she has trashed some overconfident guys at this game.
"Ladies first," Feuilly is genuine and offers her the ball with a smile.
"You might regret this later," she warns, giving him an easy grin in return.
Her arc shot is the least rusty out of all of them, so she figures that she will start with that one, focusing on the glass in the front of the other team's little pyramid. When she feels the ball leave her fingers, she already knows that she is going to make the shot – and she does, because the ball falls into the beer cup with a soft plop.
"Bottom's up!" she tells the boys with a grin.
"Lucky shot," Courf pouts as he is forced to drink the first glass of the game.
Oh, he is being petty now, made to be a bit awful to her by bruised pride and too much to drink. It is annoying and makes her think less of him, until he actually starts pouting and she realizes that he has been exaggerating just a bit to tease her. It is not the right way to tease her – she is passionate about female equality and highly competitive – but she can give him points for trying to make her smile in all this.
There are no points for Marius though, as his shot harmlessly bounces off the side of one of the cups on their left and bounces away from them all.
"Not quite, Pontmercy," Feuilly grins as he gets ready to take aim.
And of course Feuilly's bounce shot goes right into a cup in the middle of their stack, forcing her to be the one to take that first drink on her side, and hoping that dear old Courfeyrac will miss his shot as she feels the cheap beer go down in one big gulp.
"Damn it," Courfeyrac indeed misses his shot.
"Better luck next time," Marius taunts his friend with a smile. "Our turn again!"
When he turns that smile on her, she feels her cheeks heat up in response, and she remembers what it's like to be in love.
Several hours later, when she crashes into bed – a victorious champion of beer pong who has been completely undefeated – what she remembers most about the night is that sweet smile on his freckled face.
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This time she can almost get the eyes right, but the lips just will not get onto the page, at least not in any way similar to the way that they are on the statue. It's the curve of his upper lip that is not quite right, or just the shape of his mouth that just does not work – and this will never stop being incredibly frustrating.
"Your face is stupid," she tells her protesting man in frustration.
She can imagine his response to that: a huff and a roll of his eyes, and he would continue to wait impatiently while she finished sketching him. She can't imagine that he would have been a very patient man, not ever.
"Stupidly beautiful, actually," she mutters under her breath and imagines him blushing.
He would be completely unaware of how stunning he actually is, with the golden curls and the blue eyes that could see right into a person's soul. She is perfectly aware of how corny and deranged she sounds with her musings on the beauty and the character of a frozen statue, but she cannot stop thinking about him. She has never felt this drawn to a piece of art, so she keeps coming back and trying to capture him so she will never be able to forget him, even when she ends up leaving this town.
"I think you would be a harsh man," she tells him, sure of this. "You intimidate people, and while you do not always mean to, you will definitely make use of it when it does happen. Did you inadvertently take advantage of the wrong person?"
The curse was placed upon him, no matter how he tried to escape it; no matter how he protested and held up his hand to defend himself from what was coming after him with such strength, power, and prejudice. He really must have hurt someone for them to hate him so much that they would do this to him. But she cannot imagine her statue being a terrible person. He might be capable of being terrible, but she cannot see him as a bad and terrible person who hurt people indiscriminately.
"Have you not atoned enough already?" she pleads with him to change his expression somehow, to stop looking as if he is carrying people's pain with him.
Sometimes it almost hurts to look at him for that very same reason – it reminds her of broken plates and broken bones and broken connections and so much pain. She never wants to be reminded of the dark side of her past.
"Éponine, they told me I could find you here," her teammate from the beer pong tournament has managed to find her somehow. "I'm sorry to interrupt like this."
Marcus – no wait, his name was Marius, Marius Pontmercy – smiles at her in that way of his, the way that reminds her of afternoons in the park and nights in the backseat with her high school boyfriend. Before. He reminds her of before.
"Marius, what a surprise," she smiles at him, trying to remember how to flirt.
"Has R talked to you yet?" is the curious question she gets in response to that.
She does not get what her secret interest in this freckled hunk has to do with any of her new roommates, let alone with R, but she will go along with this for now.
"I have not seen him since this morning," she shrugs, careful to keep smiling.
"Oh, well, I guess that makes this kind of premature," Marius appears to be blushing. "Oh, there is our resident cynic. R, can you discuss this with Éponine?"
Now there is something to discuss with her? It must be another great town mystery – only her sarcasm probably won't transfer too well here. She has no idea what Marius is even doing at the museum, because she heard he was working as a lawyer and lawyers do not usually have all that much to do with museums.
"Too eager again, Marius?" R is quick to tease. "How does Cosette feel about that?"
There is a Cosette? Who is Cosette? Oh well fuck! It looks like this stupid crush is not going anywhere after all, because he has a significant other – at least, she assumes.
"Cosette and I are perfectly happy," the goofy grin on Marius' face tells her all she needs to know. "Now, can we please get back to the topic at hand?"
So, there goes that – right out the window.
"Yeah, Éponine," R suddenly addresses her, "I know you only just got here two days ago, and you hardly know us, but I need your help with something."
There is a hint of suspicion rising in her, because yes, she does not know these guys all too well, and all she knows about R suggests a series of bad habits that she does not particularly want to be involved in. But then again, if Marius is involved in this, she doubts that it will have anything to do with R's less than clean habits.
"Continue," she keeps her face carefully neutral.
"I just got an e-mail from my sister," the look on R's face is a great source of hilarity, "and apparently birthdays are every year and I am supposed to turn up to hers next week, even though she lives on the other side of the country and I have a job that I am supposed to turn up for. So, I was wondering, since you have that degree in art history, if you would mind filling in for me for about two weeks?"
Wait, what? All she has done over the last few days is drink and eat with the guys and stare at her statue friend while her friends are at work. Honestly, she thinks the statue might be the closest friend she has ever made – he knows more about her than any of the flesh and blood people she has encountered over the last few days.
"That is why I am here," Marius piles on some more information. "See, I represent the museum, and I have a contract for you to sign, detailing your wages and benefits for the duration of two weeks. That is, if you agree to take the position."
Of course Marius would say everything in super formal lawyer speak – exactly the sort of thing that does absolutely nothing for her. Though having a job for a little while sounds like a good idea, especially because her money fund is about to run dry – and she does eventually want to move on to another city.
"What would I have to do exactly?" she asks R, not quite sure about this.
"You'd have to do the tours a few times a day," R starts to explain what he usually does during the day. "Though that depends on how many visitors we get. Groups of at least five or people who are new to the town merit a tour. And if there are no tours to be given there's always paperwork that needs doing or descriptions of art to write for future exhibits. A lot of it is just busy-work though."
Well, she might as well do it. She needs the money and she gets a job that allows her to stare at art all day, and maybe she will even get some more time to spend drawing her favorite statue, her protesting man and her friend.
"I'll do it," she smiles softly.
"Sign here," Marius offers her the contract immediately. "And welcome to the staff!"
That damn Marius is still smiling at her so sweetly and all she sees is 'Parnasse smiling back at her after they kissed for the first time – and she can't breathe for just a little while, shaking her head to make the fog escape from her brain. She just has to take a few deep breaths and paste on her smile – which gets a bit easier with a look at her statue friend, because she somehow knows that he would understand.
"You're a lifesaver Éponine," R lifts her up and spins her around.
"Put me down, asshole," she tries to use her stern voice, but the giggles escape anyway.
While hoisted up in the air, she catches a glimpse of a statue, and she swears he could actually be trying to end these shenanigans while trying to hide his amusement. She is starting to attribute these emotions to him, and she is almost scared what spending more time with him will do to her – but she is also curious.
Who knows what goes on in this museum, with her statue?
AN: I love writing the Amis. Anyway, please let me know what you think of this chapter! And keep reading because there are some really cool things up ahead, if I do say so myself!
Love you all!