Master has given 'Ponine a sock! 'Ponine is freeeeeeeeeeee!

Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis, but I did invent the phrase dick-nosed arse canoe. So that's something.

Freedom at last. It was a weird feeling: she could go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. She would have sworn that she saw more colour and light than ever before, that she heard more laughter, more music. Her body was battered, but she felt more alive in every way. Everything was the same, but so gloriously different. Even the air tasted strange to her.

'Why didn't I do this years ago? I wasted years of my life in that shithole!' She grinned at nothing in particular, clutching her belongings more tightly to her chest. 'Where shall I go first? The café? I'll have to leave my clothes somewhere. And I need to change. I'll go…' Well. That was just it. Where on earth was she going to go? What was she going to do with her things? How was she going to get money?

Azelma, though stupid and blind in so many ways had been right about one thing: Éponine really had nowhere to turn. No-one to go to.

She supposed she could go to Gavroche's elephant. No, it would be too cramped. She was small, but not THAT small.

Marius's? Not before she'd had a wash, he couldn't see her like this.

Montparnasse's? No, he'd tell her parents. Plus he could be just about anywhere – his apartment was more of a base than an actual home: he kept his things there and washed there, and ate there occasionally. But he never slept there. He had said once that a bed, a physical bed, would just be something to tie him down and Montparnasse loathed being tied down. He went where he pleased, doing what he pleased. Old Thénardier kidded himself he was in charge, but he wasn't, not really. Orders were more like suggestions to Montparnasse and he rarely followed them, but he would definitely tell her Pa should she go to him. Not straight away, of course, he'd have other things on his mind. But eventually.

'Oh well. The streets it is.' She thought to herself. Finding the longest, most secluded alleyway she could find, she changed into her only other jeans and a different t-shirt. She had mastered the art of the quick change years ago, but today her bruised body held her up and she was thankful to be out of sight of anybody. Éponine then stashed her things under a pile of rubble, careful not to damage them. Especially not her photos or her CD.

Satisfied nobody would find her belongings there, she left for the café. When she got there, only Enjolras was at the Amis' table so she tried to sneak back out without him noticing. Unfortunately, her knee chose that particular moment to lock, sending her sprawling across the floor and taking several chairs with her. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking OW' she yelled in her head.
A cough sounded from above her. She looked sheepishly up into the frowny, disapproving eyes of a young man with golden curls.

He fought to keep a straight face despite the ridiculousness of the scene and a small, 'misjudged, foolish and immature' part of him that wanted to laugh at her course language.
'I was going to ask if you were hurt, but from that… colourful reaction, I can infer from context'
She grimaced, showing her dimples. 'That was out loud, huh?'
Don't you dare laugh. 'I'm afraid so, Mademoiselle.'
He held out his hand to help her up, but she just raised a questioning eyebrow, tilted her head and stared at him. Didn't she understand?
'I am offering you a hand with standing up, Mademoiselle.'
'I can see that.'
So take it. 'Are you going to take it?' He was getting impatient.
'Probably not. I don't need any help. Plus I'd hate to get it dirty with all my poor, after you were so careful to avoid it yesterday.'

Oh, THAT'S what this is about.
Was that really why she thought he hadn't shaken her hand?
'That's not why I didn't shake your hand, Mademoiselle.'
'OK let's get a few things straight.' Her eyes lit up with a fire he had never seen before, and she raised her chin slightly as she spoke, biting out her words with all the force of a machine gun. 'First of all, my name is Éponine, not Mademoiselle. Fucking learn it. Secondly, don't patronise me, wank stain. I know what you rich bourgeois boys are like, all Abercrombie and Fitch and 'Oh no, I broke a nail!' (She had switched from her own low rasp to a high-pitched whine that felt like it was needling into his ears for that part of the rant.) Thirdly, I don't give a shit why you didn't shake my hand. Frankly, I wouldn't shake yours now if you paid me, you dick-nosed arse canoe. '

During this outburst, Enjolras had kept his face passive, his mask of apathy firmly in place. But inside, he was on fire, not only with anger at her unfair and unfounded accusations, but also with with-held laughter at the phrase 'dick-nosed arse canoe' and another feeling that he couldn't quite place, that only seemed to intensify as he held her piercing gaze. Most of all though, he was impressed at her ability to stand up for herself. He hadn't expected it from Pontmercy's lovesick shadow.

The tension in the room was broken as a low whistle sounded from the doorway. He looked over, to see Bossuet, Feuilly, Courfeyrac and Grantaire crowded in the doorway, matching stunned looks on all their faces, with a grinning Gavroche behind Courf's leg. Looking around at the bar, he noticed a slack-jawed Musichetta gaping at them, a half-iced cake and piping bag abandoned on the bench behind her. Really, it wasn't all that. Why are they all so surprised?

The priceless looks on the faces of the men at the top of the stairs and the striking redhead behind the bar told her that nobody had a go at Enjolras very often. Very aware of all the eyes in the room following her – in particular a pair of (almost obscenely bright) blue ones, which belonged to the curly-haired man that she had just verbally pantsed, and had lit up in a very strange way during her rant – she gingerly picked herself up off the ground, then self-consciously wiped her hands on her jeans. Am I in trouble or something? Why are they all looking at me as though I just sprouted fifty-foot wings and a unicorn horn?

The silence was finally broken by the redhead. 'Honey, do you want a job?'

Éponine grinned.

Sorry for not replying to some of the reviews yet, had a surprisingly busy day today, but I will, I promise!

Don't let my rudeness discourage you from telling me what you think!