"You promised to pay me back."
Enjolras has, in fact, made no such promise – but she thinks he will not be so sure of this. And by the way his brow furrows at the words without him immediately discrediting them, this seems to be true.
"Besides," she continues, running a hand over the bookshelf and purposely angling away so he does not see her expression, "how will you ever relate to the common people if you won't even work as they do?"
From the corner of her eye, she sees him stiffen, and she stifles a laugh, but resolves to reveal it as a jest later. For now, it gains her his company without true complaint, and she can live with that.
He gives a short nod, and that is that.
Éponine is in such a good mood when it comes time to take her post that she is humming, murmuring a song she barely remembers with taps of her fingers to replace the words.
She did not trounce Grantaire as she had so boasted – but she did get a few good hits in. He is still, clearly, the more experienced of them, but it's enough to show that she is learning. He may not say it, but the grin he gave at the end of their training said enough.
To add to that, dinner was surprisingly unburned – a fact which each of the Amis made certain to remark on. Remembering the look on Joly's face is enough to bring a smile to her face even now.
She settles on a stool (the crate used earlier has already been cut up to fuel the stove, as they have not a charcoal-burning one) which she sets between one set of stairs and the door to the captain's cabin, and waits.
Enjolras emerges soon after – having appeared only briefly to eat, and seeming distracted the whole way through – and goes to stand at the railings, as he did on that sleepless night that now seems so far in the past.
He is silent for a while, but from the sort of silence that surrounds them, she would guess that something weighs on his mind.
"I have taken watch before," he says at last.
Éponine recognizes the meaning – he thinks, through her comments before, that she is questioning his loyalty to his cause.
"I know it," she says, and it is almost gentle. Slowly, she stands, and comes to stand beside him. She watches the waves, barely visible, when she next speaks. "But you're all pensive in there, occupied with your books and letters and such."
He makes a noncommittal noise, and she cannot tell how this affects him. Another topic may meet with a more vocal response.
"What's the story, then?" She asks. Her tone does not belie the touch of nervousness she feels at letting these words loose – so possible to offend, for their meaning to be obscured. "How's a high-born, university-going boy like you get to be a pirate captain?"
Enjolras searches her face and, remembering earlier, she lets a smile pull up her lips to alert him to the nature of her words.
"A desire for change." She might have laughed if this had come from someone else – Montparnasse, for instance – but Enjolras lends the words a certain weight. She nods. He continues. "The disparities between the working class and the aristocracy – they cannot be allowed to remain as they are. I have seen this."
"What, a change of heart after you'd seen the likes of me…?" Éponine finishes with a grin. "And in all this time, you've not thought of settling down with some nice girl? Face like yours –" She has to break away to grin. "– voice like yours, you could get any you set your mind to."
He frowns, and she winces inwardly. That was not the reaction she'd meant to provoke. But he answers anyway.
"Even if I should be taken by the idea," he says carefully, "this is not a time for peaceful living. There is too much to be done, and there is no time for those… distractions."
How interesting. She prods a little more, hoping to be further enlightened. "So you think, what, after your battle is fought–?"
"You believe it will only take the one?" And this startles a laugh from her.
Of course, this soon fades, as he asks, "and you, mademoiselle?"
She snorts, and she'd leave it at that unladylike sound if she could, but he looks… curious.
Éponine fixes her gaze on the stars above. "Didn't have much to give when it came time to settling," she says by way of explanation. "And never had the inclination. Never… found someone worth settling with, 'less I was settling for."
"Except Monsieur Pontmercy." She's not sure if anyone else could say this with so little intent to mock. From him, at least, it seems… genuine.
"Except Marius," she agrees softly.
She sees him glance at her from the corner of his eye, and she diverts her gaze to her hands.
"He was kind," she says at last. "He didn't mind the grime, or the clothes, didn't mind the way I talked or the missing teeth. What girl wouldn't be a little taken in?"
Her father only made her sell the one, in the back, but it swelled up and made her feel as though every probe of her tongue would set her mouth on fire. It touched on some deeply-hidden well of affection in him, and when she lost another to decay, he paid for a replacement. It wasn't a good fit, but it suited her well enough until she was able to save up for a replacement.
Still, the whole affair very nearly killed her already shrinking self-confidence – and Marius had not given it a second thought.
"So no, monsieur, I have no suitors to call for me, and I very much doubt to see a change," she finishes, and pushes away from the railing, no longer wishing to pursue this subject.
She could not bear it if he offered his pity.
"I remember there's one that looks like a crown," she offers up suddenly, "Cassiopeia. Talked too much of her daughter, and she was thrown into the sky." Éponine folds her hands behind her back as she walks, slowly watching the glimmering lights above. "Can't see it now, though."
"You would do better to ask Combeferre about constellations," comes his voice from behind her. "My knowledge does not extend far beyond matters of our country, or her liberation."
She shrugs – and then an idea occurs to her. "Make one up, then," Éponine suggests. Like…" She searches the sky until she finds one that fits her interest. "There. The line of them, with a smaller one in the lead. Call him… Gavroche." She raises her arm to gesture in their direction. "Try as they might, the rest can never catch him. He's much too quick, see."
A glance shows her that she has his attention, and Éponine's mind races with possibilities. Her eyes alight on a pair, next. "Or those ones, there. Now, the one on the right, that one's bigger. Dimmer, though. His partner's much brighter. Maybe the big one's always trying to get the other in on his schemes, but she always slips away, a clever little thing. Now where would she run?"
He is turned fully towards her now, elbows on the railing as he leans back.
"Maybe… there? To that one, surrounded by stars on all sides. Is it a Captain, maybe? And what about the ones around? A doctor, a fan-maker, a philosopher–?" There is a laugh in his eyes, even if he does not voice it, and she finds herself grinning in response. "Certainly, they are interesting company, and brave."
He folds his arms. "And where would they go, these bright stars?"
"Oh, anywhere," she answers, spinning on her heels to take in more of the night sky, "so long as there's a place to be. She's been taken in by heroes, see, and heroes, they always have a job to do."
There's a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth, and the moment of silence that lapses between them is now comfortable.
Now, he shifts to look up, and points to something above them. "What about that one?"
That night – or early morning, really, but the sun is not visible so it is all the same to her – when Feuilly comes to relieve her of duty, she stumbles to bed and does not bother to lock or even fully close her door, does not fear who might come calling, and even from the impossible angle of sprawled across her bed, she imagines she can see stars.
A/N: Happy Easter, everybody! I start school again tomorrow, so I'm afraid updates might be… sporadic. But hey, we went three weeks with daily updates! Hopefully, I'll be able to keep that up, but…
(And: you are all extremely lovely people, oh my goodness.)