Éponine loves to blog.
Whatever chance she gets, whether on the bus home from work, in the cafe with the boys or lazing in front of the television, she will constantly whip out her phone and scroll through her Tumblr dashboard; it's impossible not to like the cute cat gifs and pretty floral arrangements, and she says so haughtily to Musichetta, who only laughs and instructs her to get a life. Her favourite thing for a while was to reblog lists of questions for people to send her, the ones that spoke most of all to the lost and the lonely.
Share one secret about yourself. Where would be your ideal place to live? If you could pick one superpower, which would it be?
Meaningless, really, but perhaps those long years of solitude have stirred in the girl a deep yearning to share. She still posts those lists occasionally, when the questions are especially interesting, but if truth be told she's lost all hope of receiving any asks about her life; no musical notes enquiring what her favourite song may be, no heart symbols looking for the name of her true love.
So on Saturday night, when Musichetta has gone out for a dance with the girls and she is left with a takeaway pizza and more crappy television shows, Éponine is startled to find a new message in her inbox.
"Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?"
Glancing at the url, she smirks and types her answer.
"Depends on whether or not he brings me ice-cream."
...
An hour later they are sat on the couch, his hands tangled in her hair and the two bowls of ice-cream forgotten and melting in the firelight. Pulling him closer by the collar of his red jacket, Éponine makes a mental note to thank Bahorel for suggesting last week that the gang play Spin the Bottle.