did you walk through walls till you had to crawl?

[jondrette]

What: Éponine is sent scouting to try to see the extent of one revolutionary's charity, and figure out if there's anything worth looking into further.
Where: The apartment of Michel Enjolras
Who: Enjolras (revolutionnerons )
Verse: idek somewhere in canon?

It was a standard errand. Scope out a target, see what there was to see, and if there was anything worth stealing. As such, it was Eponine that was sent on most of these, being by far the most non-assuming member of Patron-Minette, and, as her father said with a sneer, the most likely to garner sympathy. The use of the word 'sympathy' had turned a few ears, but Thenardier quickly assured the assembled gang that this was a special sort of mission, and he'd chosen the target on purpose. He'd seen him about, passing out pamphlets, trying to garner support for his cause. A rich boy, judging from his clothing and the way he spoke, and Thenardier wanted to know more.

So the task had been set to Eponine, once the location of his home was acquired. Go to him. Look as sad and pathetic as possible. Learn about him, learn what he has, and hopefully get some food for everyone out of it. Easy enough, and as her mother had quipped, not even she could mess it up.

She was about to make for the door when her father stopped her and approached her. Without warning, he took a swing at her, hitting her across the mouth. She staggered, bringing a hand to her lips to draw back blood. "Go on, it makes you look all the more pathetic. Get out of here," was all her father said.

She did not keep pressure on her wound and slowly bruising mouth as she walked to the apartment, rather, letting the blood drip down the front of her humble chemise. She knew how to play this game, and she hated it. Hated asking for charity. She was still old enough that she remembered what it was like to have money, to scoff at those who had begged at their doorsteps. Still old enough to remember the wretch of a girl her family had fostered. She was like her, now. But here, the stakes were higher.

Eventually, she made it to the building and began to slow her walk, taking the time to draw her shawl closer around herself. Her face was already dirty enough, so she started to shiver, coughing into the crook of her arm before rubbing furiously at her eyes to make them red. By the time this transformation was complete, Eponine was at the top of the stairs, and knocking at his apartment door.

"M'sieur! M'sieur! Please, you have to help me!" She cried, doing her best to keep her voice sounding as though she'd been running, despite her leisurely pace. "Please, let me in!"

Comments

[revolutionnerons]

A lucky break for the owner of the plaintive voice on the other side of Enjolras's door. Late afternoon meant that his presence would be wanted, soon, at the Cafe. And while it was likely that he could be reached there, for several hours to come, following his departure from his apartment, his post-meeting hours would be spent quite unavailable in a location that only his friends knew to be able to reach him at. (And, even then, they typically decided not to bother.) In other words, the visitor and her timing seemed perfect, should she actually be hoping to catch someone at home.

As it was, Enjolras had been expecting company for his walk to the Musain, so he kept himself close to the door, in his pacing and itinerary-studying. The frantic nature of the knock - that, he could have guessed, should have belonged to Courfeyrac or Feuilly or, most likely, Combeferre - alarmed him. Ironically, it was the weary voice, despite its urgency, that soothed whatever otherwise would have been his excitement over, presumably, the excitement of whichever of his friends he could have expected to find, upon opening the door.

Who, so unrecognizable, might know where to find him, like this? Greeting the stranger, the ragged, young girl, in his hallway, did very little to answer his question. He saw so many faces on the streets, every day. Did this one, no more beaten or bloody than others he could recall in, at least, the vaguest sense, stand out to him, specifically? Only now, in the moment, as she stood before him, near to tears and, perhaps, actual collapse, by the look of her.

"Mademoiselle," he said, in as pleasant of a good afternoon as he could muster, in his confusion. "Are you lost?"

[jondrette]

The second the door open, Eponine willed tears to her eyes. It was oddly easy to conjure them, having to think only of Marius. Sniffling, she jumped when the door answered, displaying the statuesque Enjolras. She blinked.

"Non m'sueir. I was-- I was told you were a kind man, that you would be able to help me, m'sueir?" The words coming out of her mouth were sickening, but it would be worth it in the end. "I mean no harm-- I need help. You have to understand, m'sueir." Her words were rushed, bordering on hysterical as she moved into the threshold of his apartment. The tears that threatened to spill began to, and in her head, she smiled at herself. He wouldn't be able but to help her now.

"Please, m'sueir, I beg of you. If you don't, I'll surely die!" Dramatic, yes, but that was Eponine for you.

[revolutionnerons]

Although not to hold back any tears, of course, Enjolras blinked, too, as the girl dragged herself, not quite invited, into his room. By whom? he wanted to ask, because he doubted it would have been by his landlords or anyone else this child might have met on the way in. Less than finding him unpleasant, he doubted they knew him well enough to say, for as little time as he spent, nowadays, at home. If this young wretch was looking for an honorable man, who paid his rent on time, however, then, they would certainly be qualified to send her his way.

But the girl shook and bled and specifically begged for his help, whether he could give it to her or not, and, taking in her present state, it would be inhuman of him to turn her away.

As he did not wish to be responsible for her death, he moved away from her to sweep the chair away from his writing desk and offer it to her. "Please, sit before you fall," he said, holding out his hand in case she needed the support. "What is it that you wish me to do for you?"

[jondrette]

She watched his hand warily, hovering back, as though it might leap out and bite her at any minute. After a moment, she took it, letting him assist her into the chair where she then sat, trying her best to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible. She sniffled, pulling her shawl tighter around her.

"Thank you, m'seiur, if there's anything I can do to repay your kindness, please, do not hesitate to let me know. I know I can do little, but if there's anything, please, let me help you." Premature, yes, but she was playing the role of a terrified urchin. Eponine, afraid? Not likely, but if that was what would get her further in this ploy of hers.

She swallowed, wiping away at her eyes. "I do not know, m'seiur. I fear asking too much of a man I've only just met. But they liken you to Lamarque himself. A man of the people. Anything you can do would be more than enough." She shuddered. "It's-- it's my family, m'seiur. We've fallen in with the worst, and I only come to you out of desperation. Protection, food, money, anything. Even if it's just a kind word."

Here, she choked back a sob, wracking her whole body.

[revolutionnerons]

Grab for her? Of course not. Enjolras would have preferred, really, for her to have shown him that she hadn't needed his help and found her way to the chair on her own. But, since she couldn't, he did not begrudge her the assist, despite how stiff his arm may have gone, when she latched on. When she released him, he took a few steps back, and leaned against his desk, taking her in.

He narrowed his eyes. Before anything else, this girl appeared to need a doctor. Whether the blood on her mouth dripped onto his floor or her own shawl, it still ran too fresh and heavy. "I could give you money, if it's charity that you're after," he offered, folding his arms and straightening, trying not to puff up too much when she mentioned Lamarque's name in accordance with him. "But I would fear whoever did this to you," he indicated her split lip, "would only take it and do it again. I have friends, physicians who could see to you. Would you like me to call on them?"

[jondrette]

Through her false tears, Eponine made sure to keep her eyes trained on anything and everything Enjolras did. Shaking, she reached up a hand and gently touched her lip before flinching away in pain.

"If... If you do not mind, m'seiur. I've never seen a physician before-- I fear what they will say when they have a look at me. It's the man-- the man my father works for, did this. He's a brute, knows what to do to get what he wants. He'll take the money, but it would stop him for a time, perhaps. He goes after my family through me. It's all I can do, to help them."

Leaning forward, she coughed into the crook of her arm, flinching with an imagined pain in her chest.

[revolutionnerons]

Enjolras never fancied himself as someone qualified to give a medical opinion, but the young man had eyes. His skills would never be as honed as Joly's or Combeferre's, ever, but it wouldn't take a student of medicine to see that the child currently occupying his favourite chair was in dire need of attention. All sorts of it, by the sound of things, too. Not all of her ailments could be solved by a bandage or a hot meal.

"The money is not what you need, then," he spoke up, folding one arm across his chest and bringing the other up, so he could tap his lip while he thought. "I could give it to you," he repeated, "but what good would it do your family, only to have it taken from them? This man, your father's employer, here is where your trouble lies. He is the problem, is he not?"

[jondrette]

"It would get us out of some of our debt, help us in that way. It would..." she swallowed. "It would help me. When we don't have money I'm the one they use to get it." It was, to a degree, true. Her father used her as payment and reward. It was how it had been for many years, and she did it for her family.

"He's not a man to be trifled with. I do not even know his name, but he's dangerous. But it's all we can do to survive, m'seiur. I've never lived a life of luxury, with any money to spend at my leisure." Once upon a time, yes, she had. But that truly did feel like a lifetime ago.

[revolutionnerons]

True enough, if this employer the girl spoke of was any kind of honourable. But Enjolras could already guess what kind of a man he was. "Perhaps," he conceded, only just. "But perhaps not. A monster who exploits a destitute family's desperation is not the sort to be satisfied in one lump sum, no matter what this debt he believes your father owes him amounts to."

So, he assured her, "I do wish to help you, mademoiselle. And all in your position. For as many who are familiar with your plight, on the streets of Paris, there are equally as many who would prey on you." He dropped the hand that been at his mouth, and tapped, idly, against a desk drawer. Would have to pull it open, eventually, and retrieve what he would need for his dinner, tonight, at the cafe (supposing his inevitable excitement would allow him to eat), but hesitated. "There will be a day when this is no longer the case. There are nearly as many who wish to help." Enough who would rally, at least.

But did that help the girl, in his room, at the moment? No, he had to admit. "In the meantime, I suppose I could buy your supper, this evening." A small gesture, but he could no more eliminate her father's debt than, seemingly, her family could. And should he be successful, what next? One, in a sea of thousands, solved nothing.

[jondrette]

That drawer... Something to keep in mind.

"Then what is it you would have me and my family do, m'seiur? I am only a girl, I have no power against these men that would use me and my family so. I have tried before, and you can see the result of such attempts, I need not show you any more." She wiped at her eyes again.

Then, he said the magic words. Buying her supper. She looked up at him, her eyes wide in gratitude. "Oh, m'seiur! You would do that for me? I could not thank you enough. There truly are good people left in Paris! You are sent from God himself!" She moved forward, off of the chair to fall at his feet. "I do not have much I can offer you, except myself, in gratitude. If you would have me." It was all part of the show. She was accustomed to such articulations, and did not hesitate to say it. There were all sorts of currencies, she'd learned at a young age, and money was only one of them.

[revolutionnerons]

Enjolras had to wonder why, especially if the child considered herself so powerless in the situation, the father didn't have more to do about this. Perhaps he was ill. Or not a physically imposing man. A million and one valid reasons stretched out before him. But he hated excuses. Still. Where he could rail against his friends for providing them, it would not do to insult the poor gamine.

"Take comfort, for now, knowing that there are men who will fight for you and your kind," he said, folding his arms again. "Your life will not always be so dark, madamoiselle. For now, though..." He straightened, stood. "I can at least -"

And clattered back against his desk, as she threw herself at him. His face soured and flushed, at once. His turn, now, to shrink back like she might try to grope for him. "Please get up," he insisted, through his teeth. "Your gratitude is more than sufficient. This is so unnecessary."

[jondrette]

His actions did not go unnoticed by Eponine, even from her position on the floor. He was awkward, terrified, even angry, from where she could see. And so she took her cues from that.

Whimpering slightly, she withdrew, her eyes on the floor as she leaned against the chair, unable to bring herself to sit in it. "I'm sorry, m'seiur, I did not mean to anger or displease you. Please, don't hurt me. I'm sorry!" Perhaps that would turn him sympathetic once again, less disgusted with her and her offering.

She would not deny he was handsome, though. If he'd taken her up on it, she would have had little to complain about.

[revolutionnerons]

"Hurt you?" Enjolras might as well still have been perched on the edge of his desk, but his hands were kept very much to himself, the whole time. Lest the confused girl's pleas become more desperate. And he scoffed, forced himself to unclench every muscle in his body that had tensed, recoiled when she fell upon him. Even if she did mean him harm, she would not be able to put up much of a fight. Supposing the absolute worst.

Which he was trying not to.

As hesitant as he was, though, to give her anything to latch onto (and, no specific offense to the child, he often had a - slightly less violent, albeit - reaction when Grantaire did the same to him), Enjolras offered her his hand. "Please. You do not need to prostrate yourself. I have no intention of hurting you."

[jondrette]

She nodded mutely, still withdrawing into herself, her eyes on his hand as though it would jump out and hurt her at any moment. "Yes, m'sieur, I'm sorry. I don't mean to offend you-- it's just that is what happens so often in my life. Even if I offer, men will take what they want from me. It is an inevitability, I have come to learn. I do not mean any offense."

She swallowed, rising to her feet with more help from the chair than she needed. "You've already showed me a great kindness in letting me into your home. I should be worried that there would be some sort of catch. You truly are as good a man as they say you are, m'sieur." She offered him a broken smile.