A/N- So, I got the Complete Symphonic Recording. Mind. Blown. So worth it. I just wanna throw it out there that Eponine's line "I could've been a student too" basically exploded my brain. I had this whole scene planned revolving around Antoine and Eponine having a conversation about education and how Eponine's secret dream was to study (inspired by book!Eponine's pride over the fact that she's literate, which honestly seems to be the only thing that actually ever made her happy), and now all of a sudden I have serious canon evidence that this could actually be a part of her character as interpreted in the musical. Needless to say, this makes me happy. (As does the fact that it looks like I'm finally going to get to see a live production again for the first time since I was just tiny!)
Chapter 8: Christmas, 1830 part 2
"Paillard has gone back home for Christmas, and Joly wouldn't come on account of the weather," Jehan was saying as they ascended the steps to his flat. "But nearly everyone else decided to ride out the holidays in Paris rather than brave the roads that would take them home."
"In the weather we've had these last weeks, I could understand why!" Azelma replied.
Jehan opened the door and immediately they were enveloped in warm air heavily infused with the smell of delicious cooking. Gavroche scampered over the threshold immediately, followed closely by his sisters as Jehan held the door for them.
Inside, they found nearly the entire group of the Amis most dedicated members. To Eponine's displeasure, she spied Enjolras leaning against the mantel, deep in discussion with Courfeyrac. Sitting in a loose circle around the fire were Grantaire, Laigle, Bahorel, Combeferre, and the young Philippe de Arceneau. This last Eponine had only met once. He was extremely young even in this youthful company, having only just come to Paris from somewhere in the South, and she supposed he was rather handsome. A lady whom Eponine recognized as Celeste, the latest in Courfeyrac's long string of mistresses, also was sitting with this last group.
"Look who I found!" Jehan called to his friends.
"Gavroche! Sister of Gavroche!" Grantaire cried, fixing his eyes on the Thenardiers.
"Stop calling her that," Bahorel said good-naturedly, whacking his alcoholic friend about the ears. "She has a name of her own!"
"Sister of Gavroche is easier," Grantaire muttered. He got to his feet and made a low and excessively embellished bow that very nearly took him off his feet (as it was, the only thing that kept him from going right into the fire was the firm grip Bahorel had on the tails of his coat). "As always, Eponine, it is a pleasure to see you," he said, a twist of irony in his voice. He then caught sight of Azelma hesitating behind her and his bloodshot eyes widened, a grin crossing his face. "And who is this delightful creature?"
"This is my sister, Azelma-"
"Other Sister of Gavroche!" Grantaire cried delightedly, and brushed past Eponine to plant a kiss on the blushing Azelma's hand.
"-And," Eponine continued, as if he had not said a word, "You will not try any of your usual tricks on her. I have seen how you behave with the women in the cafe, Grantaire."
He looked over his shoulder at her sorrowfully, still clutching Azelma's slender fingers in his own rough ones. "Are you intent on ruining all of the things that bring me joy?" he pouted.
Eponine raised an eyebrow. "It was Roxanne's idea to cut you off last week, not mine."
Grantaire huffed, and turned back to Azelma. "Other Sister of Gavroche, I pray for your sake that you are nothing like your sister."
Azelma, who was looking extremely pink about the ears, retrieved her hand from him. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur-"
"Remi Grantaire, at your service."
At this point, Gavroche took it upon himself to introduce Azelma to the rest of the company, all of whom were far more polite than the intoxicated Grantaire had been. Azelma behaved like the lady Eponine had raised her to be, she noted with pleasure. She was charming with the men and polite toward Celeste. When she was introduced to Philippe, however, she averted her eyes and her voice dropped to a barely discernible whisper. The young man, Eponine noticed, fared little better, turning scarlet as he kissed her hand and tripping over his tongue as he greeted her. It earned him amiable guffaws from his friends, and an appraising look from Eponine.
Perhaps I should have let her wear the green dress after all, Eponine mused.
At this moment a young woman, tidily dressed but sporting an apron, emerged from the kitchen. She was pretty, her fair hair unbound to tidily frame a heart-shaped face. "The table is ready!" she exclaimed. Then her eyes fell on the Thenardiers and a scowl crossed her face. "Or perhaps not! Why did no one tell me there were more people coming?" she asked, plainly annoyed.
Bahorel put his arms around this woman and kissed her thoroughly, which prompted some of his friends to roll their eyes. "Come now, Laura," he said once he had released her. "Don't be cross."
She was plainly far too dazed to be cross, but managed to say, "And to think I put so much effort into preparing a lovely Christmas dinner for you ungrateful louts." There did not seem to be a lot of real venom behind the statement, however, as she was still attempting to get her breath back.
"I'm sorry to be a bother," Eponine said quietly to Jehan, who still stood near her.
"I wouldn't worry," he replied. "That's just Laura all over. She always has something to be irritated about, even if she isn't really angry. It's likely why she and Christophe get along so splendidly- they are both always eager for an argument, yet never with each other!"
Eponine chuckled quietly as the company began to drift from the parlor into the dining room.
Across the room, she spied Antoine Enjolras glaring at her most intently. When she noticed this, she met his gaze squarely and steadily, quickly growing annoyed at his expression, which was as if he were offended by her very presence. This was exactly why she had felt unwilling to come in the first place! Everyone told her he was a good man, from Roxanne to Gavroche, and he probably was, but she did not like him or his haughty attitude in the slightest.
Feeling childish, she stuck out her tongue at him and turned on her heel to follow Courfeyrac and Celeste, completely ignoring his astonished expression.
Dinner was a charming affair. The company was good and Laura's cooking, it transpired, was excellent. Much laughter went around the table, and the good Christmas cheer couldn't seem to be spoiled by anything. Not even, it seemed, Grantaire finally having the drink that pushed him past animation and into full-fledged boisterousness and bursting into an incredibly lewd song in the middle of dinner.
Enjolras sat to Jehan's right. He did not speak much, but observed his friends quietly. He almost had not come tonight. The religious observances of the holiday were all well and good, but he rather felt that the boisterous parties so many people attended during the Christmas season were more than a little excessive, and ordinarily he would have preferred a quiet evening by himself. However, Jehan had pleaded with him so earnestly and for so long that eventually he found it impossible to refuse the younger man's request. He was glad he hadn't.
These young men he had come to know so well during his time at the Sorbonne and who had joined him in the back room at the Musain were like family to him, far more so than his actual family had been in years. It was good to spend this time with them, he thought.
He glanced down the table to where the young Thenardiers were seated, the three of them squashed between Laura on one side and Philippe on the other. Azelma was seated beside the latter, and the pair of them were sneaking glances at each other, which Enjolras found rather amusing. The younger Mlle. Thenardier seemed a sweet girl. Enjolras thought she did not seem to have any of her sister's fire. He could not decide if this was a good thing or a bad one, but in any event it certainly rendered her mostly harmless to Philippe.
Gavroche sat between his sisters, joyfully singing along with Grantaire, heedless of the rude lyrics. Eponine was trying in vain to quiet him, but he noticed that she was trying not to smile. Enjolras also felt his lips twitch up at the corners. Ever since the young boy had begun following the drunkard everywhere, Grantaire had seemed much happier than he used to. It was good for Grantaire to have a friend who appreciated his rather unique sense of humor.
Who were these Thenardiers? From the moment he had discovered that Gavroche belonged to someone and was not just another gamin like the thousands that roamed the streets of Paris, he had found himself curious about this little family group. Eponine could not be older than sixteen at the most, yet here she was, caring apparently singlehandedly for two siblings.
He was not fond of the razor-tongued young woman, but he found that he had to grudgingly concede that to be managing so well in such circumstances was impressive. Enjolras was a wealthy man, and he had never had to go hungry a day in his life, but since he had first come to Paris three years previously, he had witnessed astonishing poverty up close. He knew that Eponine could not possibly make much money. He had seen how skinny she was, as if she barely got enough to eat, the mud-stained hems of her dresses, and the holes in her threadbare coat. Her siblings, though, were warmly dressed and obviously well-fed, the beautiful Azelma in particular. For this he could not help but gain a newfound respect for Mlle. Thenardier. She might be shrewish, irritating, childish, and almost deliberately blind, but no one could deny the evidence of their eyes that she put her siblings' well-being above her own.
It is for them that we will fight, Enjolras thought determinedly, for the people who work themselves to the bone just to scrape by, for all the orphans, for the ones who shiver in the cold, for all the ones whose lives are so fragile a single upset could destroy them. This is the reason for it all.
After dinner, they all retreated to Jehan's well-appointed parlor, and the evening passed pleasantly, with the company sharing several bottles of wine that someone had brought along (likely Bahorel, who always had healthy stocks of such things). Outside, the wind rattled at the window pane and screamed for acknowledgement it did not receive. Once again Enjolras exempted himself from the conversation, preferring to quietly watch his friends' laughter with an almost paternal eye.
The men struck up a game of cards, and Laigle lost repeatedly, to no one's surprise. The four ladies- Celeste, Laura, and the Thenardier sisters- sat close by the fire, talking and laughing together. After some minutes, a frustrated Philippe declared himself to be wretched at cards and left the circle of young men to sit next to Azelma.
"You'll be bored stiff with our conversation, I'm sure," Azelma said delicately.
Philippe shook his head vigorously. "Impossible!" he declared, and turned pink around the ears.
As the evening wore on, Grantaire became increasingly intoxicated, as was his wont. He stopped singing and started prattling incessantly, today on the subject of the worthlessness of all that was contained in a library. "What a great lot of paper they have wasted!" he proclaimed expansively. "I am not an ignorant man. I can say with certainty that in the whole of my life, I have only read one or two books that were truly worth putting down on parchment! Think of the work of all the book-binders, wasted on so many trivial scribblings!"
"If I had a library," Eponine interjected sharply, "I should not consider it useless."
Enjolras had been thinking much the same thing, and found himself rather annoyed that she had said it first.
Grantaire ignored her, and continued his ravings. This was the usual way. Enjolras, as usual, disagreed with nearly everything the skeptic said. He could not, however, help but feel a sort of affection for the man. He had cared very little for Grantaire when they had first met, but his good humor and surprisingly active mind had softened him until they became rather good friends after all.
The drunkard kept up his long-winded elucidations of his opinions, growing increasingly red in the face as he consumed more and more of Bahorel's wine.
After some twenty minutes or so, he suddenly turned to Eponine. "Why is it," he asked, pointing at Philippe "that he can flirt with your sister, but I am not allowed even to pay her a compliment?"
"Because," Eponine said playfully, "Monsieur de Arceneau is a gentleman, and you are not."
She had plainly intended it in jest, but Grantaire was very drunk and did not take it as such. He sat down very sharply, a saddened expression on his face. "Oh," he said.
Enjolras winced. He knew that look. He had seen it on Grantaire's face too many times early in their acquaintance before he had come to accept the older man as a friend, and his own careless remarks had cut the man deeper than expected.
"You would do well not to say such things," Enjolras chastised her coldly.
Eponine looked at him very directly. "It was not intended cruelly," she protested.
"Regardless, I do not think you know Grantaire well enough to say such things even in jest," Enjolras replied.
"Grantaire is drunk out of his mind," Eponine said. "The odds of him even remembering this conversation are very slim."
"That's true," Grantaire said brightly, already beginning to look cheerful again now that he had heard Eponine say it was not seriously meant.
Enjolras sighed, deciding simply to give up the whole discussion rather than attempt to argue. Eponine Thenardier was impossible!
A/N- This chapter was a complete b*tch to write for some reason, and I'm still not particularly pleased with it but I've kicked and argued with it for quite long enough, thank you very much!
Also, if you haven't heard Michael Ball sing the titular song of Phantom of the Opera yet, DO IT. Just when I never thought anyone would top Ramin- oh God, insert "top ramen" joke here... I am a horrible, horrible person for saying that, but it's unfortunately where my brain instantly went... and this A/N is getting too long and way to stream-of-consciousness, so I'm gonna shut up and you're gonna review now, okay?