"Grantaire knew the best places for everything, besides being a boxer, gymnast and dancer, and skilled in the use of the singlestick."

"Grantaire, come ring around the rosie with me," Azelma called.

Éponine looked up from where she sat on the grass, practising her reading with one of Grantaire's books.

"Let him be, 'Zelma. He's done it with you thrice."

Grantaire waved his hand dismissively. "I don't mind, Ép." He walked over to Azelma and clasped her hands. They spun around, chanting the nursery rhyme, and fell onto their backs, laughing. Grantaire's deep, resonant belly laugh mingled pleasantly with Azelma's delighted giggles, and Éponine couldn't help but smile at them.

"Say," Grantaire said, pushing himself up onto his elbow and grinning at Azelma. "You want to try another type of spinning?"

She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I'll show you." He picked himself up off the grass, then lifted Azelma to her feet as well. "You trust me?"

"'Course I do, Grantaire!"

"Alright. Just hold your body stiff and straight, like a board. Got it? Show me."

Azelma demonstrated, snapping into a rigid, soldier-like stance. Éponine watched, puzzled but interested.

"Great." Grantaire flashed another grin. "Alright. Stay like that. I'm gonna lift you, and then try something, okay? 'Member you said you trust me…" Grantaire stepped closer to Azelma and took hold of her waist. He hoisted her up, then bobbed up and down on bent knees a few times, as though warming up for something. Suddenly —

Éponine gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

She didn't know exactly what Grantaire did — it happened so fast — but Azelma was thrust high into the air and somehow did a magnificent quadruple pirouette before landing safely back into the man's arms.

"The hell, 'Taire!" Éponine leapt to her feet and stormed over to the two of them, fuming. "What the bloody hell was that?!"

Azelma, after her initial shriek while rocketing into the air, now simply looked shell-shocked.

"It's safe, Éponine!" Grantaire hurried to assure his seething friend. "I promise, I've done it a thousand times. I'd never have tried it with Azelma if it was risky."

"You chucked her a good five feet above your head!"

"I know." His mouth twitched into a smile and he turned to Azelma. "Pretty awesome, huh?" He held out a palm, which a recovered Azelma slapped enthusiastically.

"Soooo awesome!" the little girl squealed. "Can we do it again?"

Grantaire laughed and eyed Éponine nervously. "I dunno… Your sister might kill me."

"Damn right I will!"

"Aww come on, 'Ponine!" Azelma whined. "He caught me, didn't he?"

Éponine snarled. "Not happening." She turned again to Grantaire. "Where did you even learn that?" Despite striving to keep her tone furious, she couldn't help sounding the tiniest bit impressed.

Grantaire shrugged. "Some combination of gymnastics and dance training."

Éponine blinked. "Gym… what?"

"I'm a gymnast and a dancer. Or used to be." Grantaire scratched his ear. "A boxer too."

Éponine just stared. "You're screwing with me."

"Haha. No." He grinned. It was a sheepish, honest grin — decidedly different from the grin that accompanied all his jests.

Éponine's jaw practically dropped onto the grass.

"What?" She gawked at her friend, utterly flabbergasted by this new revelation. "A gymnast, a dancer, and a boxer? I thought you did nothing but laze around drunkenly whenever I'm not with you!" She was so shocked that she didn't even realize her exclamation was fairly insulting.

Grantaire chuckled, taking it in good humour. "Well to be fair, that has been the case lately. I stopped training in all three of those activities some time ago."

"When?" Éponine pressed. "And why?"

Grantaire scratched the back of his head. An uncomfortable flush rose to his face and he broke eye contact. "Not sure exactly when… Some time after I met Enjolras."

Éponine's face fell and she bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't prompt him to answer the why. But as she chewed the soft tissue of her mouth, she wondered just how much Enjolras had ruined Grantaire… Had he always been a profligate drunk? Or were those habits ushered in by the pining, as his athletic habits were swept out?

"You want to try, Ép?" Grantaire asked, smiling at her with only a touch of devilishness. "I can show you it's safe, and then maybe you'll let Azelma have another go."

Éponine huffed and turned on her heels. "Absolutely not."