One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Éponine sat inside the Cafè, patiently waiting for Enjolras to arrive. Today would be the first day of her deal with Grantaire, her first day of learning how to read, and her first day to attempt to seduce Enjolras. She didn't expect that he would be easily seduced, it would be a long term project. It was a different concept to be the one making advances and not the one being advanced. But with a price of five hundred francs she was willing to do anything.
Enjolras strolled into the Cafè, his arms full of books and scattered papers. "I'm sorry that I'm slightly late. We got into quite a heated conversation at the lessons today. I apologize."
"It's alright, I don't mind waiting." Éponine replied, jumping up from her seat with a broad smile. "So what are you going to teach me?"
"A few simple words," Enjolras answered, motioning for Éponine to sit down at the table. She took the initiative to make sure that she was closer than a simple friend would sit beside someone. "What words are you familiar with?"
"Franc, suo, Inn, Tavern." Éponine shrugged, looking at what appeared to her to be scribbles on the sheets of paper he had.
"Do you know how to write your own name?" Éponine gave him a blank stare. "I'm taking that as a no." Enjolras chuckled, "Well we can solve that first off." Enjolras took her hand in his, grabbing a quill from his supplies. "Here, take this, like this." He held her hand, dipping the quill into the inkwell, "Now, feel the way it feels."
"I feel the way it feels." Éponine said trying to sound casually seductive, giving him a smile and letting her gaze linger on his face. He seemed unconcerned by her attention. "What's next then?"
"Watch how you move your hand to write Éponine." With her hand still encased by his, he slowly drew out each connecting letter, letting her take in each letter as its own. "E, P, O, N, I, N, E."
"How do you write Enjolras?"
"When would you need to write my name? We're teaching you the important stuff first." Enjolras laughed, dipping the quill in the inkwell again, shifting his hold on her hand.
"Might want to write you a thank you note?"
"Fine," Enjolras shook his hand with a laugh, glancing a little warily at how close Éponine was settling near him. "E, N, J, O, L, R, A, S." He repeated the same motions in teaching her how to write the name. "Now you try writing your name."
Éponine frowned as he pulled his hand away from hers, seducing him wasn't going to be easy if he didn't seem interested in her touch. She need the five hundred francs. "Alright then," Éponine repeated the motion of dipping the quill in the inkwell, placing the tip to the paper and applying light pressure. "Dammit." She cursed as the ink splattered onto the page in a giant blot. "I did something wrong."
"Light touch, try again. Keep it at an angle with the point facing away from you." Enjolras took her hand again, placing the quill in the inkwell and then delicately positioning the quill. "Like this."
Éponine nodded, turning to give him a smile. If she very bold she would have attempted to kiss him, but she didn't feel like that would lead her anywhere except being illiterate still and light five hundred francs, and without any respect from him any longer. "Like this?" Éponine shakily drew a squiggle that looked less like an 'E' and more like curl.
"Close." Enjolras laughed, taking her hand again and helping her start the lowercase 'P'. "You'll get it eventually."
There was no spark when their hands met, nothing like she hoped that there would be to further this endeavour along. If only it had been Marius that Grantaire had wanted her to seduce, she would have gladly pounced at that chance. Instead here she sat as close to Enjolras as she could be without being blatantly forward, with his hand wrapped around hers teacher her to write. There was irony in the fact that Marius had never offered to teach her to write despite the fact that he was well aware of that inability, and yet Enjolras busy with plotting a revolution was taking an hour out of his evenings to teach her. While Marius was out chasing the "love of his life", and being young and free. Perhaps that was why Enjolras was not interested in the advances of a woman. They distracted him from his work and he had risen above that boyish desire to bed whatever tramp stumbled along.
Where were they other ABC boys from now until the morning, when they'd crawl into their lessons bleary eyed and half drunk? And where was Enjolras? Sitting in the Cafe, where she saw him diligently working on something or the other nearly every evening, while the others were out playing with the world and he was trying to right the world.
But she had serviced men long enough to know that every man had their quirk that would bring them trembling to their knees like a little boy. Even Enjolras with all of his upright honour and intelligence. Maybe that was what he was interested in, an intelligent woman with a shining virtue and desire for freedom from oppression and the need to insight a rebellion of the people.
Éponine knew that if that was what he desired she had fallen into a place in line so far from that image that she might as well return the advance on her payment and call it quits with being able to at least decipher her own name better than she had before.
"Is that it?" Éponine questioned as she finished off what look somewhat similar to what he had helped her write.
"Yes." Enjolras laughed, "Except that might say Equine."
"I wrote horse?"
"Close." Enjolras patter her arm reassuringly, "Few more lessons and you might be able to write it perfectly by the end of the week."
"You mean you'll continue these?"
"Sure." Enjolras shrugged, indifferent to the subject. "A man's greatest honour, in my opinion, is to be able to learn enough that he is able to pass that knowledge on to someone else."
"A noble thought." Éponine commented, picking up one of his books and studying it. "What does this say?"
"1775."
"Those are numbers, but what do they mean?"
"It's a short essay about the revolution that occurred in the new lands across the Atlantic."
Éponine snorted, "A short essay? This is a couple hundred pages long!"
"Perhaps when we're done with your lessons, you'll call this short as well."
Perhaps when we're done with my lessons, I'll have got you in my bed. Éponine thought in response to what he had said.