"So, yeah, that's me. I mean, I never really did a lot until I came here. And I still don't do much now. I kinda…" Grantaire lent back and gestured around him. "Yeah."

They were sat in a small pub-cum-bar just off one of the main streets. Eponine was wearing Bahorel's old Iron Maiden hoodie, a pair of shorts and not a lot else. She must be freezing, Grantaire thought absently.

"Yeah, I get it." Eponine sipped her vodka and coke delicately. Grantaire leaned in slightly closer hear her over 'Super Bass'. Only one of her teeth had had to be taken out, she could get away with the rest being capped, but it still hurt. So she had a straw and she felt like a twat. I did, like, fuck all between the ages of eight and twelve. Got a bit more pro-active as I got older, though." She hesitated, tapping ice cubes with her straw. "My brother, my little brother Gav isn't my proper brother, you see? My mum had an affair and she tried to cover it but the kid came out white and my dad never trusted anything that came out her vagina since. So he didn't like Gavroche, or Christien or Rhett either. Got a bit short with them. Didn't like to spend his money on them. Of course, his money was mum's money and… I don't know, it was really weird. She just kinda disconnected from them. It was like she didn't really think they were hers because dad didn't really think they were his. I don't know. It kind of fell to me, but I didn't care. I'd looked after most of the foster kids, so-"

"Wait, fuck, hang on a second," Grantaire said, blinking and leaning forward. "You've just spent the past ten minutes telling me that your parents are the biggest criminals in London, are you fucking with me that the system trusted them with other people's kids?"

Eponine shrugged. "System trusts anyone if it suits them. They weren't really that bad before Gavroche. They were never good parents, I mean, shit, they had us in on the business since we were about eight but I mean, we ate. And they both had jobs. Plus, we had room. It all looked legit on paper. Cosette was the last one we had, though. The last kid. I was, I don't know, seven, eight? Gav was born not long after."

"It's weird that you two should meet here after so long. We're not even that close to London."

Eponine smiled wryly. "Yes. Yeah, I suppose it is."

"Were you friends, you two?"

She laughed humourlessly. "She wanted to be." There was a very prominent, unspoken full stop at the end of that sentence. Then she met Grantaire's eyes again, and with almost overwhelming false brightness said, "So, tell me about your friends!"

Grantaire finished his beer and wiped his mouth. "I'm going to get another drink, do you want one?"

"You're not getting out of this!"

"I know! I'm just trying to be a gentleman, so do you want one or am I going to tell the bar staff you're underage?"

"You are such a sarky little shit, you know that? I'll have a rum and coke if you're offering; make it a pint and don't think about spitting in it or I'll choke you with your own tongue."

Grantaire raised his eyebrows while flagging down a waiter. "Jesus. Interesting, but I'm not going to get the chance. Hi, pint of rum and coke and the same again, please. I have a tab."

"Cool," the man leant over Eponine to reach Grantaire's glass. She pulled the jacket Bahorel had leant her closer and glowered at him, fishing her straw out of the remains of her glass.

"Yeah, the great thing about living in a University town is that everywhere is so overstaffed."

"Can't get a job for shit, though. So, tell me about your friends."

"Not a lot to tell, really. You probably know Musichetta better than I do. I like her, but our paths don't really cross a lot. She's cool, she's studying music. She's got two boyfriends, one's doing law, one's doing medicine. There's another medical student, Combeferre, he's the one with glasses. Again like, I like him, but I don't know if he likes me that much. Courfeyrac's got all the hair, he's the one you chewed out earlier. He's nice but, yeah, he could have been more sensitive about that. He was mortified, though. He's a really good guy, I think you'll like him."

Eponine snorted.

"Don't, I knew him when we were kids. He helped me through a lot. We went to college together and then we came here."

"Yeah, well. I think I'm going to make up my own mind about him. Go on."

Grantaire's mouth quirked dryly, and for the first time, he felt the strong affection for Eponine he'd been building throughout the night drop a notch. He dug his nails into his hand and made a note to talk to Courf later.

The waiter came back with their glasses. Grantaire slipped a few pounds onto his tray.

"Well, anyway. He's going out with Jehan, who's like Byron, except don't mention Byron to him because he thinks Byron's a fuckwit. Jehan has pink hair at the moment. Then there's Feuilly and Bahorel who aren't actually dating. You're wearing Bahorel's hoodie. He's cool. Feuilly's an engineer. Then there's Marius, who fell out a fucking Disney film. He's been on a date with Cosette like, once, and apparently it's true love. It's kinda cute. It really pisses of Enjolras."

"What the fuck kind of name is Enjolras?" Eponine screwed up her face. "Jesus, I thought me and Zelm had it bad."

Grantaire smiled. "Yeah, he hates it. His dad's Home Secretary."

"No fucking shit."

"Yeah, I know. That's like, the one thing Enjolras hates more than his name. He hates being associated with his dad, he-he's not like him. He's joined the Labour Party and like, all the different Socialist factions going. He's doing politics. I don't know if he wants to go into it, though. He hates the whole idea. Anyway, his parents sent him to Harrow and Eton and he got himself thrown out of both and went to the local technical college and that's where he met Combeferre, so the two of them are pretty tight. They're close with Courf, too, he kind of divides his time between them and me."

"Sounds like you have a lot of friends."

Grantaire shrugged. "Yeah, I'm more the token hanger on than anything. They like you."

"Well, thank fuck for that, because I like them and I can waste less time making them like me."

Grantaire smiled and a horrible thing clenched. "I should probably get you back to barracks."

"It's, like, midnight."

"Yeah, for you, maybe. I've got a meeting with one of my professors tomorrow morning."

"Dude, from what I gather that should mean nothing to you."

"Yeah, but if I miss these I could get thrown out. Musichetta might kill me if you aren't home."

"Shit, your professor sounds like a barrel of laughs."

"Valjean? Nah, he's not bad. They were going to chuck me after the first term and he managed to persuade the board not to, as long as I checked in with him every week. He's a pretty good guy, I suppose." He downed the last of his drink. "Coming?"

"Yeah, give me a fucking moment," Eponine said, before chugging the rough three quarters of a pint she had left. "Your professor wouldn't be Jean Valjean, would he?"

"Specialises in 19th Century French crime and punishment."

"Oldish guy, really built?"

"Yeah, him. Do you know him?"

Eponine looked at him like he'd grown three extra teeth. "Well, yeah. He's Cosette's uncle."

"He's her uncle?" Grantaire started slightly. "Huh. I just thought he was her stepfather."

"Yeah, no, he's her uncle too. I know 'cause he was in prison when her mum died and that's why she came to stay with us."

"Wait, no, hang on. Valjean was in prison?!"

Combeferre was in his dressing gown, just sliding off his slippers when there was a gentle knock at the door.

"Oh, fuck" he whispered to himself. "Come in!"

Enjolras's fluffy head poked itself around the doorframe.

"Oh, it's you. Come on in, don't stand out in the cold."

Enjolras padded in and perched himself on the end of Combeferre's bed. His hair was put roughly up in a messy bun with his hoodie zipped up and hanging off one shoulder. Combeferre regarded him with interest as he got into bed, hugging his knees to give Enjolras room. Enjolras put his feet on Combeferre's shins and chewed at his thumbnail.

"Enjy, love you as I do, I don't know what you're thinking."

Enjolras said "hnng".

"Take your thumb out of your mouth."

Enjolras glared at him.

"Enjolras," he chided gently.

Enjolras unfolded his arms and looped them around his knees loosely. "Do you think I'm a good person?"

Whatever Combeferre had been expecting, he didn't think it was this. He tried his best not to look as taken aback as he was by reaching around to his bedside table and retrieving his glasses. He fixed Enjolras with a look. "Enjolras, what's bought this on?"

"Just, generally."

"You're one of the best people I know," Combeferre blinked. "Enjolras, look at me. I'm not saying this because you're my friend. I'm saying this because I'd be lying if I wasn't. You're… selfless. Not in the conventional sense, but-"

"No." said Enjolras flatly. "Not in the conventional sense."

"Enjolras, I hate to say it, but you're not making a lot of sense." Combeferre shifted further up his bed, dislodging Enjolras's feet slightly as he did so.

"Enj, you come in to my room at-" he checked his watch "-almost half past midnight to ask me what I think of you, and you try and turn the first thing I say into something negative. What's up?"

Enjolras crossed his legs again.

"Grantaire."

"What about him?"

Enjolras sighed and stretched himself out like a cat. "I just… I feel really bad about what happened the other day. Between us. I just… I never meant to get like that."

"Is this about the debate?"

"I was feeling so unprepared. And I had spent longer in the café than I'd planned because I was arguing with him and that cut in to my last minute preparation time."

"Yeah, and if I remember rightly you also did the verbal equivalent of shooting Marius in the face."

Enjolras waved a hand, "Marius is used to it."

"Enjolras…"

"I know Marius better than I know Grantaire. I never actually meant for him to find out I was pissed with him, but that doesn't excuse me, I know. I don't know anything about him. Bahorel said he's had a pretty hard time of it. Generally."

"If this is some roundabout way of asking me to tell you what I know, I wouldn't. Even if I did know… anything, really, about Grantaire's home life. It's not mine to tell."

"No, I know." Enjolras lay still for a moment, and then said "Do you think I'm mean to him?"

"Not mean…"

"Short. Sharp. Cruel."

"You aren't cruel, Enjolras."

"Hmmn."

"Look, if you really want him to know all this, why don't you talk to him?"

"He wouldn't want to talk to me."

"Enjolras, he wouldn't leave your side the night Eponine arrived. That was the one and only time you've ever been drunk in the time I've known you, and he insisted he'd deal with it. He wanted to do it all by himself. I'm pretty sure he'll have a civil conversation with you if you ask him."

"Hmmn."

Combeferre took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. "What are we going to do about Eponine?"

"Hmm?"

"Eponine."

"Oh. I don't know."

"She can't stay here, can she."

"Does she need to? I mean, she seems pretty well able to look after herself, and-"

"So you're saying we should just leave her."

"That's not what I'm saying! That's not what I'm saying at all, Jesus, Combeferre! I'm saying that we shouldn't assume that she needs 'saving' because she's a different gender, race and socio-economic status to us."

"I wasn't suggesting that she needs saving," Combeferre said gently. "I'm sorry, I should have worded myself better. But if she doesn't want to go back to wherever she lives yet, or if she doesn't have anywhere, we should be able to offer or direct her towards somewhere to stay, don't you think?"

"Marius's friend knows her. Maybe she could do something."

Combeferre looked at him, mildly amused. "By 'Marius's friend', do you mean Cosette?"

"Yeah. I've never met her."

"I don't think any of us have, really. Not formally. Maybe he's afraid we'll scare her off."

"We're terrifying," said Enjolras, through a badly concealed yawn.

"Go to bed, Enjolras."

"What time is it?"

"I don't know. Late. Early. I'll wake you up for your lecture."

"Mmn, I know you will.£ Enjolras slithered off the end of the bed and stretched himself. "Oh! I almost forgot to ask. How was your stay in prison?"

"That? Oh, it was nothing. Just that officer who's not that fond of any of us. He- oh, Christ, I've forgotten his name. Anyway, I'm not talking to you any more. Go to sleep."

Enjolras nodded, and decided resolutely to talk to Grantaire in the morning.