A/N: I'm posting this chapter with slight reluctancy, as I have realised that some people are only fans of Les Miserables for the shipping and they don't really see the depth in it because I'm pretty sure when Victor Hugo was writing it he wasn't concentrating on the romance, but on the revolution and longing for freedom. I have also realised that with this story I am encouraging the shipping more as it is kind of a shipping story. For now I will continue I don't know what will happen in the future. For now, enjoy.
Eponine threw herself against the bed and stared up at the ceiling. There was a crack starting at the side of it, and it came right up to the middle to stop at the chandelier. Eponine figured it was the reason the light didn't work. All in all the hotel was rather run-down. The bathroom was slightly rusty and warm water had flowed only for around 5 minutes when she had tried to take a shower. The worst thing was, the room was dark, and when she looked out the window all she could see was another brick building gaping at her, literally 3 metres away.
She was furious at Ian because she knew he could afford a more prestigous hotel for and he hadn't. Also, earlier in the day due to Ian's crappy directions, it had taken Eponine around an hour of walking in and out of small alleyways to find her hotel, which surprisingly was on the main street. She could have just walked down it when she had gotten out the Metro and it would have taken her 15 minutes. Eponine had a feeling swirling in the back of her mind that Ian was trying to get back at her, after how she had ignored him in the taxi.
She wanted to phone him and complain for hours on end but she knew she had to do her job now. She quickly pulled out a hooded cape from her suitcase, put it on and checked in the mirror if she didn't look too suspicious. It was dark outside anyway, so no one would notice her. She pulled her hood on and walked out the room.
In the dark unknown streets Eponine felt uneasy and bare without any weapons. She walked in the shadows and tried not to attract much attention. Ian had told her that she would get given them in Paris, by some men from her job. She didn't need them today though, she was just going to listen, learn to know her victims more. The warm breeze ruffled the paper in her hand slightly which caused her to glance down at it. It was the map she had printed from Google Maps which showed her where the cafe was. One advantage of her hotel was that the cafe was not far away. Musain. Eponine walked faster, as a drizzle was beginning and she did not intend on getting caught up in a storm.
Finally she was there. The cafe was situated in the corner of two small streets. It's walls were painted dark beige, some would say brown, and on the front, in slightly faded yellow capital letters it said Musain. Eponine smiled to herself as she opened the door to the cafe. Immidietely the strong smell of musk and aftershave hit her. The cafe was fairly large and very warm, with welcoming decor. She quickly scanned the room for 'familiar' faces but saw none and her heart faltered for a split second. She quickly brushed the feeling off and replaced it with (rather limp) hope, but it was all she had in her right now.
Keeping her head low, her face completely hidden by her hood Eponine walked towards the bar. She heard someone ask her what she wanted but she didn't dare look up.
"Whisky," she grunted, putting on a slightly different voice. Moments later she heard a glass getting dumped somewhere near her and she reached into her pockets and threw some coins before the bartender, not bothering to count. She heard the bartender gasp and Eponine winced. She must have given a lot. Oh well, she thought as she grabbed the glass. I have more than enough to spend. She glanced around the room again, checking if she hadn't missed and faces. She hadn't.
With a sigh she sat herself down at a table. Luck wasn't on her side today. She twirled her glass on the table with her fingers, watching the shadows the whisky made.
She decided to listen in to some conversations, hoping to find something out about the men. There was a couple sitting right behind her so she decided to try them.
"Look, I promise my parents will like you. My mama won't judge you because of your past". That was the man.
"I don't know". Eponine heard the man sigh, and then there was some shuffling on the table, not of glass but some kind of material. Maybe they were reaching out to hold hands.
"No matter what I'll"- Eponine's ears were dragged away from their conversation when she heard very loud laughter coming from...that was the problem. She had no idea where. It definitely wasn't coming from outside, it was somewhere in the building, near the cafe.
She stood up, taking her yet un-drank whisky with her and started searching for a place where the noise was the loudest. As she went by she cast a quick glance at the couple. They were both around mid-20, and unbelievably beautiful. And yes, they were holding hands.
She heard the laughing again. Her body spun around in a circle, her eyes darting across the room. Where was it?! Then she heard shouting, cheerful shouting, and then an angry voice trying to interrupt.
"Get more! Get more!"
"Shut it! I'm trying to-''
"Go! It's gonna be awesome!" Then someone whistled.
"Go Grantaire!" She froze. Grantaire. One of the men. They were here, they were all here. But where?
She sat down at a table and listened. Uneven steps, going down some stairs- she could hear the creaking. Then, from a corner came a man which she assumed was Grantaire. Curly dark hair and dark eyes and the look in them was dazed. Drunk, definitely drunk. She could see by the way his legs didn't seem to know where to go and how his face was far away- he wasn't present in the room but somewhere else instead. And when he (unsteadily) walked up to the bar to order a drink the slur in his voice was hard not to notice.
Eponine wanted to slap herself. How could she not have searched thoroughly? It rarely happened, her getting distracted but it did now. She kept thinking about a little boy she had left behind here, in Paris, when her father had sent her to London to start her job, 9 years ago.
They exchanged letters occasionally. In one, he had told her he had ran away from their abusive home and was now living with a friend, who apparently was older than him and able to take care of her little brother. Eponine couldn't remember the friend's name although Gavroche had written it to her a couple of times. After persistently searching her mind all she could recall was that his name began with 'C' and was rather long.
Eponine awoke, back at the cafe. She had been daydreaming again. She kicked the table. Grantaire was gone. She took a sip of her whisky then stood up and went round the corner where Grantaire had come from. She was right, there were stairs. To her delight she still heard quiet chatter upstairs. She lifted her foot then placed it on the first step then put her full body weight on it. She regretted it a split second later when it gave a massive creak. She winced, as the room upstairs had fallen silent. They must have heard it.
She had no choice now but to continue up the stairs. She buried herself into the hood, hiding her face. When she walked into the room all she could see were wooden floorboards though she knew all eyes were on her. She gripped her whisky tighter in her hand as she shuffled up to a table in the corner of the room, slightly hidden by shadow. Good. She could see them but they couldn't see her.
She sat herself down at the chair beside the window, overlooking what she couldn't see as the blue dark had painted over everything. She realised the room was still silent, and from the corner of her eye she could see all heads were still turned in her direction. So she did the only possible thing she could do, which was to take the whisky and gulp it all down in one go. It tasted foul in her mouth and she wanted to retch it back out. Then she ditched the empty glass in front of her.
The silence was broken by someone starting to laugh, very loudly and merrily and at once Eponine knew it was Grantaire. He walked up to her and sat down in front of her.
"Looks like I found myself a drinking buddy!" he exclaimed, probably to the men because she heard groans coming from them, and slender laughter from some. A few words were cast towards Grantaire and the usual atmosphere came back and the chatter began again and they all seemed to forget about Grantaire and the hooded-figure-in-the-corner. Eponine lifted her head, knowing Grantaire would only be able to see the outlines of her face due to the dim light.
"What's your name?" he asked, the slur in his voice fainter.
"Floria Authement," she said, her voice the same from when she had talked to the bartender. "And yours?"
"Claude Grantaire. Call me Grantaire though. He took a swig of his drink. "Never seen you here before", he said. Eponine was lost for words so she slyly changed the subjects; luckily Grantaire was too drunk to think this suspicious.
"Are they your friends over there?" she asked. With this she would also get to know more about them. Grantaire nodded.
"They're the revolutionists. Les Amis de l'ABC." Grantaire snorted. "And there," he pointed to a man at the centre of the table with curly blonde hair who was chatting away to another man, "Is the leader. Thinks he can start a revolution and win it. Charming," he muttered. That must be Enjolras. Eponine could hear the sarcasm in Grantaire's voice but she could also sense the admiration he had towards the leader. Grantaire rambled on about alcohol, but Eponine was too concentrated on her thoughts to listen. Maybe I don't have to kill him, he doesn't seem to care about a revolution. At least one life would be spared. But he might follow the leader. Eponine shook her head. He definitely would. Even though he made it clear he thought the revolution would never see the light of day he also made it clear he praised Enjolras, one way or another.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Grantaire stood up.
"I'll go get us some drinks," he said, winking at her. Obviously he meant alcohol. Eponine sighed as he left. She really didn't approve of alcohol, it was so bitter and she didn't like the way it made her dizzy. She slumped against her chair, shooting a glance at the men. She had been right, they were all handsome, maybe except Grantaire. As she waited for him to come back she overheard the men's conversation.
"Where's the little one?" said a man with long hair, who she took to be Jean Prouvaire.
"He's sick. It's why Courfeyrac couldn't come today either," replied Feuilly, or so she remembered. The name Courfeyrac seemed to ring a bell in her head but she couldn't quite grasp what it was. It was the most annoying thing ever, when a piece of thought was just outside the boundaries of one's mind. Courfeyrac. Eponine racked at her brain, but she just couldn't reach the answer. Courfeyrac. Where had she heard the name before? Or seen? The men carried on chatting at ease, and Eponine was just about to blow up. She knew if she didn't find out who he was his name would be haunting her all day.
She heard the stairs creaking and moments later Grantaire was in the room carrying two large glasses of beer. He didn't even have time to sit down when Enjolras' voice rang all around the room.
"It is late, I'm going home. I bid you all goodbye and a safe night." He turned to Grantaire. "R, I'm driving you home, you're too drunk to do it yourself". Grantaire's face seemed to light up at Enjolras' words and he placed the two glasses at Eponine's table, waved her a small goodbye and rushed off to Enjolras. It was strange because suddenly all the men decided they wanted to go home, and started to file out of the room, as if without Enjolras a gathering could not take place.
She sighed as she watched all of them go, she hadn't found out much today. Last of all went Enjolras who, before going down, had glanced suspiciously at Eponine. She lowered her head and gazed into the table's worn-down wood. She lifted it back up again when she heard his footsteps on the stairs, and again, the creaking.
I'm sorry that everything happens so quickly, I still need to work on my writing-technique. Please review .