And that brat, she just wouldn't stop making questions. Monsieur Thérnadier finished the bottle of rum and tossed it away, hearing the glass break. He spat on the ground and rubbed the back of his head with his palm, his knees were starting to ache from the cold, but he didn't pay attention to it. Children. They always wanted something. Wasn't food, clothes and roof over their heads enough? He had broken his back for years for that ungrateful lot, and what did he get in return? A boatload of questions, as if children were entitled, along with everything else, to answers.
"We're going to deal with a man, alright?" He replied, frowning.
"Deal? What do you mean 'deal'?" Éponine asked, walking slightly behind.
Monsieur Thérnadier stopped brusquely and turned around to face his daughter. With a simple movement he opened his coat, exhibiting the knife he carried tied to his tattered belt. Without saying a word, he turned again and resumed the walk.
"Y-you mean kill him" Éponine stuttered from behind.
"For crying out loud, don't shout it!" He replied, briefly looking back to make sure she was walking.
"But w-why?"
"That's not your problem…or mine."
He had been negotiating with Jacques for hours to make the arrangement, another thing no one would thank him for, he figured. Not every day you get a debt condoned like that, no sir. He had to kill a random man? So be it. Dog eats dog. Did that man deserve to die? Who the hell cared. Monsieur Thérnadier knew better than to wonder about such things. He deserved to live, he deserved to have both his hands and his legs, he deserved to not withstand whatever torture Jacques was preparing, and that was all that mattered.
"Shut up!" He shouted at Éponine, not realizing she hadn't said anything.
Monsieur Thérnadier wish he hadn't sold his pipe at that moment, he was craving for a good smoke. He could steal one later, or maybe, if he was lucky, the man they were looking for had one he could take. He wouldn't need it anymore. Monsieur Thérnadier looked back to hurry Éponine, could the brat walk slower? She looked pale now, as if she was the one to be executed. Was this her first time? He wasn't sure.
"It was about time you got started" He barked, ignoring the taste of vile in his mouth "And you might as well get used to it." He spat, only now realizing his jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly. It wasn't angst, he thought, just anger at his daughter. He couldn't be nervous, if everything went according to plan he would be doing a lot more and with a crew at his command.
The air carried a smell of booze and vomit. He instinctively looked down to check, but no, it wasn't his, so they were nearing the tavern.
"I don't want to." Éponine whispered, once they stopped walking.
"You'd think I'd trust you to do it? Don't be stupid. Now listen, listen, look at me, your job is simple." Monsieur whispered back "A man is going to leave this place soon, I'll signal you when he does, then you're going to approach him and make him walk over there, over that street lamp, do you see it? Do you see it yes or no?"
She nodded.
"I'll jump him from behind."
His daughter mumbled something.
"What?" He demanded.
"There must be something else" She said softly, her eyes were watering. "Anything else."
"What do you prefer, that bastard or us getting dealt with, huh? Because if we fail, oh if we fail they won't kill us right away, no, we'll be begging for death, I tell you. And do you know what these people like to do with girls like you? They'll-"
"I get the point" Éponine interrupted him.
"Listen now, listen. In this world there are only two types of people and you bet your arse it's not good and bad, it's not even rich and poor, no. There's only people who stay alive and people who don't. And I've made my choice, how about you?"
The kid was trembling. It was her first time. Perhaps he should've given her some booze, but it was too late now.
Éponine looked down, the first tears were running down her cheeks as she asked "So what do I say?"
"Ask him directions, say you're lost." Monsieur Thérnadier replied, now more calmed, almost sympathetic. "He'll believe it, with the tears and all"
Éponine walked towards the tavern's entrance.
"Hey" He said, she stopped and looked back. "You won't do anything, I'll do the dirty part, if that helps you sleep at night."
It wouldn't, monsieur Thérnadier knew from his own experience. With a gesture he commanded her to keep moving, while he took his place, hidden in the darkness, near the street lamp. He was shaking and it wasn't on account of the cold breeze, he knew. He took his knife out and took a moment to look at his reflection. He grinned and with a finger touched the gap where his tooth had fallen. Maybe a golden tooth would look fine on him. He had wanted to be a pirate once, the memory came to him out of nowhere, like the smell of freshly made bread on the morning.
A slick man exited the tavern. He had seen him earlier with Jacques, and now even in the dark streets, monsieur Thérnadier could still recognize the man's bearded face. He made a gesture to his daughter and Éponine ran towards the man.
She approached him, he couldn't hear what she was saying, but he had been engaged. She was guiding him alright. Monsieur Thérnadier clenched his hand around the knife's handle. He was perched like a wild animal. Following an almost primal instinct to stalk quietly, waiting for the moment to pounce. Just a little closer, just a few more steps.
Éponine stopped. Thérnadier frowned.
"Run, monsieur, it's a trap! Run, run, run now, just run! Save yourself!" Éponine shouted suddenly, almost shrieking, but her father was already out and grabbing the man.
He struggled, the man moved like a wild horse. Thérnadier raised the knife, swiftly, he lodged it in the man's back. With some effort Monsieur Thérnadier pulled out the weapon which glistened momentarily under the moon before the blade went down again. A couple of more and he would be done. He suddenly felt, something in his back. A pair of fingernails scratched his cheeks and he turned to see his daughter trying to reach for the knife as she shouted, telling him to stop. With a swift movement of his elbow, monsieur struck her, sending her straight to floor. But during the brief struggle, the wounded man had been able to run clumsily. Monsieur ran after him, managing to pin him down in a second.
He pressed the man down, pressed his right cheek against the pavement. The man begged, he was weeping.
"Save your breath, mate" Monsieur said, holding the handle of his knife tightly.