A/N: Me again! Sorry this update took a while; I only just finished this chapter! Hopefully chapter four won't take as long. This is mostly filler, but I hope you'll enjoy! R&R!

"Mr. Enjolras, your son is here to see you," the secretary said as she cracked the office door ajar.

"Send him in," Richard Enjolras Sr. said from the other side of the door, shuffling the various papers on his desk. It was a busy Monday for the offices of Enjolras and Combeferre, Attorneys at Law – both men had several criminal cases on the local dockets, and they had to be in court for each one. Mr. Enjolras was prosecuting a thief by the name of Thénardier, and while he predicted it would be an easy case to win, he was always wary of the defense.

He pulled out his pocketwatch, sighing in mild irritation at the time. Richard had to come see me now? I have a case in 20 minutes…the elder Enjolras loved his son, but the boy still frustrated him.

"Hello, Father," his son's voice jerked him out of his reverie as he walked into the office with a nod, sitting down on the other side of the desk.

He nodded back. "Hello, Richard. Colette said you wanted to see me; what's going on? And make it as brief as possible; I have to be in court at 2:00," he added, checking his pocketwatch again.

The younger man sighed in mild irritation and went straight to his point. "Father, I'm bringing a girl to Firebird on Thursday."

He froze behind his desk, his hand still reaching out for a stack of papers to put in his briefcase for court. After a tense moment, he turned his head to look at his son. "What sort of girl, Richard?" he asked in a voice that thinly concealed his bitterness.

"Mac's new bartender, Éponine. I've already been on a date with her, and I really like her. She's…really great. She's sweet, charming, and absolutely gorgeous…"

"That's what you think now, when you barely know her," his father snapped. "Believe me, I know. Your mother entranced me for over 30 years, between courting her and being married to her…and then she left us, Richard. I only discovered the depth of her feelings – or lack thereof – after she killed herself."

"Father, that was 26 years ago," Enjolras said insistently. "I was only a child when Mother died. And besides, Éponine is not Mother."

"Trust me, son. It doesn't work that way. At their core, women are selfish creatures, all of them," his father answered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to court," he said primly, gathering the last of his papers and standing up to leave.

The younger Richard Enjolras also stood, nodding sharply. "I'm still bringing Éponine to the ballet Thursday. I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't make a scene in public," he said coldly, before turning on his heel and exiting the office.

"Give your father a bit of pity, Richard," Colette said as he came out. "He's been a changed man since he lost your mother all those years ago."

Enjolras waited until his father exited the lobby to answer her. "He's had long enough to find a way of coping that doesn't involve demeaning women at large, then," he muttered. "He never even says her name anymore, Colette. It was Maëlys. Since she died…it was almost like she never existed. And when he did acknowledge her life, it was only with anger and bitterness. Like she didn't love us enough to stop being sad."

He sighed quietly, leaning on the secretary's overly tall desk. "I have a few vague memories of the year or so before she died, when I was about four…I would see her sitting alone at the kitchen table, crying…and I would always ask her, 'Mother, why are you sad?' She would wipe away her tears, try to smile, and say to me, 'I don't know why I'm sad, Richard. I wish I did, so I could try to stop it, but I can't stop being sad.'" He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he remembered his mother. "Being four years old, I didn't really understand why she couldn't stop being sad…but I remember always trying to make it better for her, in all of the simple ways a little child can think of."

Colette gave him a sad smile and put a hand on his shoulder. "You always were a good son, Richard." He smiled sadly, patting her hand and walked back out to his car.

Enjolras spent a long time driving around the city, going nowhere in particular, thinking about his mother, his father, Éponine, his father's words about her, what on earth it was all supposed to mean…had he been wrong to ignore potential relationships all his life? The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how angry and bitter his father still was, even after 26 years. From what he remembered as a child, his parents had loved each other more deeply than he could have ever understood. How had that all changed so quickly when she killed herself all those years ago?

He caught himself repeatedly driving by the general store that contained the Whitehorse, and finally parked outside it. The young lawyer sat in his car for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to go in. Would Éponine even be working? And if she wasn't, what would he do? Mac didn't usually keep more than one bartender anyway, especially with Prohibition becoming the law…

But even so, what do I do if she's there? Tell her my father doesn't want to see her at Firebird? I can't do that. And there's no way I could talk to Mac about this; he'd never take me seriously again if he knew I have a crush on his bartender. He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. Come on, Richard; get it together. Do you want to be with her or not?

It's not a question of whether or not I want to be with her. It's a question of why I keep driving past here when I have nowhere else to go. He sighed again, still frustrated. For God's sake, what is it about that woman…?

Enjolras stared at the general store door for a while, debating on whether or not to go in and talk to her. Out of nowhere, the door burst open and there she was, carrying two large bags of trash to the dumpster. Panic involuntarily raced through him for just a moment, and he shrank down in the driver's seat. Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me…

Then her head turned.

Dammit!

Éponine raised an eyebrow when she saw him, laughing at the sheepish look on his face. Well, no choice now, Richard…he thought to himself, getting out of his car. "What brings you here, stranger?" she laughed as she set down the bags, rolling the tension out of her shoulders.

"I heard that Mac hired a doll recently, and I decided to investigate the claim myself," he grinned. "What about you?" he laughed.

"Oh, I'm the new bartender. Mac hired me recently," she grinned back as she opened the dumpster and threw in one of the bags of trash. "So how's it going?" she asked cheerfully.

He hesitated for a moment, not sure of what to say before it all came spilling out. "Well, the ballet Thursday doesn't start until 7:30; would you like to have dinner before? We can go back to the Stork Club, or we can go somewhere else; it's up to you. Or I can cook."

"Sounds great," she grinned. "Wait – you can cook?" she laughed.

Dammit, why do I open my mouth? "Since I was 14," he admitted, only slightly shamefaced. "What kind of food do you like?"

"Well, Italian's my favorite," she confessed.

He grinned. "Good to know. So I'll pick you up at 6:00, we'll eat dinner at my apartment and go to the ballet?"

"Sounds great to me," she answered. "Oh, how should I dress?"

"Togged to the bricks."

"Perfect. I'll see you Thursday night at 6:00," she smiled. To his surprise, she leaned in to peck his cheek before waving goodbye and going back to the Whitehorse. He stood still on the sidewalk for a moment, slightly shocked. His fingers involuntarily reached up to graze the spot that her lips had touched, and with a grin, he hopped back into his car and drove back to his apartment, already ready for Thursday night.

Oh, Éponine Jondrette…what you do to me.

A/N: Hehe! Please review!