Three's Company? ( Eponine, Les Amis )

[Deleted]

( OOC: Open to any Les Amis peeps that want to drop by Courf that means you )

Combeferre carried a picnic basket at his side as he walked through the Luxembourg Gardens, his blue eyes scanning the premises for the perfect spot for him and Eponine to have their meal. He had actually decided to wear the only top hat he owned, and settled for his blue tailcoat instead of his overcoat. He had excused himself to go get ready after making the suggestion to Eponine on a whim. He was surprised that she had accepted his offer because of the way she reacted when he had offered her tea.

He was ashamed of himself for not being able to tell Eponine he loved her. Why was it so difficult? He had no doubts of how he felt about her anymore. He was not ashamed—he could never be ashamed. He wanted her to know. He had almost told her, but then she had said that she was glad they were friends. That had slammed into him like a brick wall. Friends. He assumed that that meant she didn’t want them to be more than friends, so he had held his tongue.

Even so, didn’t she have a right to know, before he died, how he had felt? He felt guilty for not telling her and he would feel guilty for burdening her with unnecessary knowledge of his affections. He did not wish to upset her either way. At the moment he wasn’t going to say anything. Perhaps he would rehearse his speech more. In any event, now did not seem to be the opportune time to tell her this.

He was very aware of some of the richer visitors’ unsolicited staring at the pair, whom they would have considered to be mismatched, no doubt. He was also certain that if his father ever found out about this, he would strongly disapprove as well. His mother was much more open—he suspected she just wanted him to fall in love period, regardless of who the girl was. He unconsciously reached out and took Eponine’s hand, glaring pointedly at an elderly bourgeois couple whispering on a bench with poorly hidden glances at them. “Come on, just over here. I come here for luncheon sometimes after class.” he explained with a soft smile, leading her over to a patch of grass in the shade.

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Eponine had busied herself in the corner of Combeferre's flat, flexing her fingers beneath the bandages, as he packed the basket for them. She wasn't sure what the bourgeois considered proper picnic food since she took most of her meals out of doors, but apparently it was a special occasion for them to eat in the gardens. Her eyes followed Combeferre as he moved around his flat, grabbing food and drink and folding a blanket to lay over the top of the basket. When he finally opened the door and turned to her, she smiled and stepped out onto the landing that just a few short moments ago had held Javert. It amazed her how quickly things had changed from the tense and frustrating moments arguing with the inspector to the calm, if awkward, time with just herself and Combeferre. It seemed like two different worlds, kept neatly separate from each other in little bubbles. In one, she was the dirt beneath the bourgeois' feet, not worthy of trust or kindness, quickly on her way to prison. In the other, she was equal, treated with kindness and compassion, and invited to dinner, not out of pity, but friendship. It wasn't even the matter of a choice between them, she didn't have to think for even a moment. She'd stay in the latter as long as Combeferre would allow.

As they made their way through the gardens, Eponine was all too aware of people staring at the pair of them. She did her best to look like she wasn't shadowing him to pick his pocket or as some lovely lady of the night. The last thing she needed after having just won her freedom was to have the police called down on her again. She wanted nothing to spoil this outing. Not even the derisive glances of the couples already in the gardens. No doubt they had their own ideas about who she was and why a man dressed as fine as Combeferre would be going anywhere with someone like her. Anger flared in her at the thought of their opinions of Combeferre and how his reputation would suffer just by being seen out with her like this. Who were they to tell him he could not be friends with someone like her? All they were doing was taking a meal, and in a public place. They didn't sneak about, or hide in shadows, for there was no reason. Right?

As he reached back for her hand, Eponine cursed the bandages, smiling as his fingers brushed over the back of her hand. It was a simple gesture, and yet comforting. She was no fool to miss the glare he threw at a couple across the path from them, and almost withdrew her hand to spare him. But it was forgotten when he gently led her off the path. The cool grass on her bare feet made her smile and she dug her toes in with each step. "It's hard to imagine you out here alone eating. I always thought you more interested in dusty books than bright sunshine and flowers. It's easier to see you craned over some scroll in a library with a cup of tea than out here." She laughed coolly, teasing him slightly she supposed. But that's what friends do.

[Deleted]

Combeferre was silently contemplating making a scene by telling off the couple whispering evidently about them, because the man rather ostentatiously pointed, but making a scene so soon before the rebellion was not going to do him any good at all. He knew that his parents would have not only whispered, but actually confronted him had they known about this outing or the lessons he had given Eponine. He could imagine his father’s face distorting in outrage, and his mother clapping a hand over her mouth in shock. He could probably coax his mother into seeing his point of view, but his father would probably be impossible to appease.

He was angry enough about his refusal to work at the practice, and would be livid if he ever found out he was even entertaining the idea of marrying a gamine, never mind actually courting her. He would not be surprised if this was the last straw that drove the Combeferre patriarch to disinherit his youngest son, since he was no doubt considering it ever since he found out he was studying philosophy and medicine instead of law. It mattered little to him because he was bound to be disinherited anyway for the rebellion, if he survived. If he didn’t, he hoped that his mother would at least honor his wishes for Eponine to be looked after when he was gone. Even if she rejected him, he wanted everything he had to go to her. He had no one else to leave his things to, for one, and he cared about her enough that all of it would have been hers anyway if he had lived. It would be recompense for not giving her the life he felt she had deserved.

He was distracted from such morbid thoughts of his own mortality when Eponine teased him with a remark about him being more suited to a library. “Even I must see daylight once in a while.” he quipped with a smile. “Besides, if I didn’t come out here at all, then I wouldn’t be able to observe any moths.” He had a fascination—which some would probably consider strange—with moths. Even though the great outdoors were not usually preferable to a comfortable chair in his father’s library, he did enjoy looking at the fauna of Normandy when he was a boy. He kept up the habit in Paris, finding it a worthwhile diversion to his studies. Courfeyrac liked to tease him about his chasing butterflies and moths instead of women.

“It reminds me of home a little.” he explained as he laid out the picnic basket and pan bagnat. “The gardens there are surrounded by these massive hedgerows. It’s almost like a labyrinth, but it’s beautiful in its own way. I’d go out and look at the flowers while listening to the ocean, which isn’t too far away.”

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Eponine tried to forget the people staring at the two of them, at their horribly mismatched pairing. She didn't want anything to spoil the rest of her evening with Combeferre, especially not high and mighty people who had nothing better to do than meddle in other people's business.She had hoped she could take her lessons without hurting Combeferre's reputation, but that was obviously not even on the table anymore. Since his neighbors had decided to report her as a thief or worse, she knew there was very little she could do, save ceasing her lessons entirely. And she didn't want to do that. She enjoyed his company too much, his quiet smiles and easy praise. He had quickly become her closest friend. Except Marius, of course. And she was learning so much. Already she could tell a difference in her spelling and vocabulary. She still dreamed of the day she could pull Marius aside and speak to him as an equal on what Combeferre had been teaching her.

As she settled next to the basket on the ground, Eponine thoughts were pulled away from Marius once again. She smiled at Combeferre, laughing softly. "Moths? Really?" She had never thought him one for the outdoors, especially not one for chasing insects. She realized apart from what they had spoken about in their lessons, she really didn't know much about him. And honestly he knew even less about her, through her own doing. It seemed strange for them to be such close friends and not know simple things like what hobbies each had, whether either of them could dance, or what their favorite foods were. She knew his own lack of knowledge about her was due to her own distrustfulness. She'd never really been open about herself, even with her friends. What Marius and Courfeyrac knew, they had stumbled upon themselves, much in the same way Combeferre had. She made a note to be a little more open with Combeferre. In her eyes he had earned it.

Eponine's stomach grumbled quietly at the sight of the food. Her run through the city had left her feeling more hollow than usual, but she knew there was still etiquette for this sort of thing. Folding her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting, she tilted her head towards him. "Do you miss it? Your home, I mean. The ocean must be beautiful, I've never seen it before." Eponine thought of her own childhood home, the rundown inn that had seemed a mansion to her young eyes. She dearly missed her days there, when life seemed simpler. Perhaps it was the same for him.

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“I know it must sound horribly boring to you.” Combeferre answered with a self-deprecating smile as he poured the lemonade he had just made that afternoon into the two glasses he had brought. “But yes, I study moths—and butterflies—in my spare time.” He didn’t know why he was so fascinated with the insects. Perhaps it was their colorful wings. Perhaps he was just fascinated with the idea of flight. “They’re fascinating creatures, really…” He decided not to ramble about his bug obsession, knowing how strange and even childish it must sound—a grown man crawling around in the grass after insects.

He took a sip of his drink and then looked up when Eponine asked him about Cherbourg. Grateful that they were no longer talking about moths, he nodded. “Yes, I do, very much. It was worse when I first came here…I was very homesick. I think I missed my family more than I did the ocean—which is beautiful. One moment it’s peaceful and the next it’s tumultuous—the ocean is unpredictable but…it’s mysteriousness I think is what makes it so beautiful.” he commented, meeting her eyes. He realized that he wasn’t speaking about the ocean anymore and looked away. “My father stopped writing to me when I told him I was studying medicine, but my mother still writes regularly. I visit them once or twice every month. I have an older brother in England that I see every once and a while—he’s a lawyer like my father.”

He was contemplative for a few moments then he added, “I think the homesickness ended when I met Courfeyrac and Enjolras.” They were not just his friends, they were his brothers. He had nothing against Jacques and he was fairly certain that Jacques had nothing against him, it was just that their age difference and the fact that he lived across the Channel had prevented them from having a fraternal relationship. He would always politely ask him about his studies and Combeferre would buy his children gifts, but the two had never been friends in the way that brothers usually were. He knew that Jacques was the son that his father had always wanted, and because of that he looked up to him in a way.

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

"No, not at all." While she couldn't exactly picture Combeferre spending much time out of doors, the idea that he was still using that time to study something helped to ease some of Eponine's disbelief somewhat. In her mind, she could see him sitting on a bench, a notebook spread across his lap as he watched the butterflies flit from trees to flowers and back again. She pictured him taking notes, even sketching any particularly interesting insects as the sun slowly dropped behind the horizon. What astonished her most was how no matter what new subject was broached between them, Combeferre had studied it, even if only a little bit. "Medicine, philosophy, even politics. And now moths and butterflies. Is there anything you don't study? Anything you know absolutely nothing about?" She laughed lightly, smiling as she took the glass he offered her.

As he spoke of the ocean, Eponine wondered if there was anything Combeferre didn't find fascinating. The way he described the waters, it was as if he was speaking of a living breathing thing, a childhood friend he had back home and had not seen in a long while. She tried to imagine what his family home looked like, all sprawling lawns and vaulted ceilings. She pictured a young Combeferre with glasses just a little too large for his small face, laughing and running through the gardens and splashing in the waves that rolled up on the shore. Did he still stumble over his words then? She wondered if he had nearly as many books as a child as he does now, if his love of reading had been born at that young age.

It was only when Combeferre met her eyes briefly before looking away that it pulled Eponine from her thoughts to the present, and she realized she was smiling. She was surprised to hear that he had a brother, a lawyer living in England. There was a sadness to his voice, the same she heard when he spoke of his father, even if it was not as pronounced. It spoke volumes in his few words. Thinking of her siblings, including the two brothers gone before she even knew them, deemed too much of a burden to care for and sold off. Despite none of them living under the same roof, she was devoted and close to her remaining brother and sister. She would do anything for them and they for her. She could not fathom not having that relationship to rely on when the rest of the world failed her.

But of course, Combeferre had that, just not with his blood. Even a blind man could see that Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and Combeferre, despite their differences were more like brothers than friends. All of Les Amis were close, but those three especially. They almost seemed to complete and balance each other out. Of course they would argue and disagree, but they would lay down their lives for each other, as they had proven with their latest undertaking. "How did you meet them?" For all her time around the students, she knew very little about how their society met and was formed. She knew what their ideas and goals were, but not how they had arrived at them. Waiting for Combeferre to respond, she took a sip from her glass, her lips puckering momentarily at the unfamiliar tart taste. Swallowing the cool liquid, she decided she liked the drink, sour and sweet at the same time. Her eyes darted once more to the food, unsure the proper etiquette for an afternoon picnic in the gardens with a friend. Did she just grab the food herself? Would that be rude? Clasping the glass with both hands, she chewed her lip thoughtfully and looked back up at Combeferre.

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Combeferre smiled sheepishly and chuckled quietly in response. “Fox hunting…I never liked it no matter how much Father tried to push it on me, and the dogs always scared me.” He had never liked hunting in general because of the violence associated with it. He had not minded horseback riding or fencing, but making sport of killing, even if the targets were just animals, did not sit well with him at all. He had endured the other two because they were necessary to his ‘gentlemanly education’ as his father had put it, but he had found absolutely no point to killing beasts for fun. It almost disgusted him, which was why he had refused to go hunting whenever he was asked. He had no desire to learn more of it.

When Eponine smiled at him, he responded in kind with a grin, and held her gaze a bit longer than he might have in the past—longer than he supposed was acceptable for ‘just friends.’ He was no longer trying to hide anything anymore so it was harmless, was it not? Then she asked him a question and he regretted it because now he was flustered. “How…oh, yes, yes, um….” He looked at his sandwich instead, tearing his eyes away as he collected his thoughts. “It was when I first started going to the university. I always took luncheon—every meal for that matter—alone, and then one day they invited me to the Musain. Courfeyrac was an upperclassman, Enjolras and I were the same year but he had gotten there before I did. They were always challenging the professors’ views in the few classes we had together, and I was impressed—especially with Enjolras because, well, once you get him talking…” He grinned at the memory and added, “Courfeyrac made me laugh and I hadn’t laughed since before I came to Paris, really. While we were eating, they got me thinking about my own political ideals, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

They were truly not simply his best friends, but his brothers. It pained him to think that they should be separated by the events to follow. If he lost one of them…he couldn’t bear to think of it. It would be like losing a family member—life wouldn’t be the same. He didn’t know, and didn’t want to think about how he would carry on without them. Burying the thought, he reached down for his pan bagnat and took a bite of it before washing it down with lemonade.

Instead, he thought of what they would all do once their rallying cries were answered and the war so to speak was won. If they had a parliament, would he serve in it? He didn’t know if he would be any good at it. He wanted to finish his studies…and maybe get away from the excitement of Paris for a while. “Do you like the lemonade?” he asked, noting her expression. She had not eaten, and he wondered if the food displeased her.

[Deleted]

Courfeyrac knew that he wasn't one to talk, that there were plenty of times that he'd been found off with a young lady – but never when there was something else to do. No one doubted his faithfulness to the cause, even if he couldn't remain faithful all the time to one mistress. The same was true of the other Amis; they were perfectly capable of keeping a mistress and of fighting for their cause without being distracted. But as the day of Lamarque's funeral, and consequently of the barricade that was anticipated, grew nearer, he could think of little else, even Mylene. She was off busy doing her own tasks to help the cause, and it only made Courfeyrac more fond of her for her passion and dedication.

After years of waiting to see his desire for a republic come to fruition, there was hardly time for clandestine meetings; he had pamphlets to pass out, people to stir up, furniture to find. The only reason he was walking through the garden was because it was something of a shortcut to someplace else that he wanted to go. The pockets of his coat were, as had grown customary as of late, stuffed full with pamphlets, hidden so that he would not be caught by a National Guardsman with them, though he had the pretense of braggadocio, and a pistol in his pocket and a sword at his side to boot. No one would question him strolling through Luxembourg.

That did not mean that he was not surprised to see one of his acquaintance – actually, two – during his purposeful stroll. It was not unusual to have Combferre found there dreaming of butterflies, but with a woman, and Eponine no doubt--! Courfeyrac stopped in his walk to observe them for a moment. Combeferre had spoken to him of telling Eponine of his feelings, a few tough questions had been asked – and now there they were. What had been spoken? Part of him longed to know, and he lingered there for a moment. The opportunity to interrupt really was too good to pass up; he yet had time to give out this information. Though he considered passing by, going unnoticed was impossible, especially in his eye-catching garb characteristic of Christian de Courfeyrac.

Dear God. There was lemonade.

The situation really was quite hopeless.

Strolling casually by, he glanced over at the pair. “Bonjour, Combeferre,” he said coolly, before nodding to Eponine. “My ears were burnin'. 'Tis only natural to speak o' me, Ah know.” He waited for Combeferre's reaction, hoping for an embarrassed flush that might indicate that they were speaking of something secret had transpired, but it was true - Courfeyrac had only heard talk of his own merit, not Eponine's. Not that he was complaining; Combeferre's praise was all true.

[Deleted]

He was beginning to rethink not telling her because of his mannerisms right now. Why was it that focus—something that had always come easy to him—was almost nonexistent whenever he was around her? Of course he perfectly well knew why, but it was still a relatively new concept to him—that he was in love. The somewhat transfixed look on his face was one that he had seen on many other men, but never expected to ever be making the same face himself. He supposed it was normal, that there was no harm in it, but all he had drawn out of her today was that she thought him to be a good friend, but apparently nothing more than that. That being the case, maybe his showing his infatuation was a bad thing.

Not that he found her wanting in any way, he thought her to be a wonderful person, really. She was intelligent, very quick-witted, she was a good listener, she cared about him and his life—in short, she was a friend. And he had told her so and she had thought the same of him. But if it was true that she didn’t care about him the same way he did of her, then wouldn’t it be better for him to carry on as if he wasn’t feeling what he did? Unfortunately, that was proving to be easier said than done. Even now, he had trouble keeping eye contact for a few seconds. The longest he stared into her eyes had to be when he went for his own glass of lemonade again, and made contact by accident. He was avoiding her eyes and yet he couldn’t stop staring at them. They were so warm, so beautiful, so—

His head immediately turned in the direction of the voice of the man they had just been talking about. “Ah, Courfeyrac! Yes, I was just telling Eponine the story of how we met.” He tried not to look too flustered—what was he doing here? Surely he hadn’t been spying on them? Not that it mattered, he had neither done nor said anything to be ashamed of, anything that he felt necessary to hide, but…well that was probably the most private moment he had ever had or would ever have with a woman, and although what they spoke of was certainly nothing that he would mind being overheard, it had felt as if they were the only souls on earth for a few moments. “I’d offer you a glass but alas, I’ve only brought two…” he said rather pointedly.

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Eponine sat, completely enraptured by Combeferre's story of meeting the Amis, his brothers in every sense but blood. When he spoke of Courfeyrac making him laugh, it brought a faint chuckle to her own lips. "Yes, he does seem to have that effect." Of all the Amis, save Marius and now Combeferre, Eponine found herself most comfortable around the dark-haired student. He had a certain way of putting people at ease and even with Eponine's inherent distrust of others, her time among them had shown her that Courfeyrac was one deserving of her trust. All that coupled with the fact that he was a close friend of Marius's and most likely to know his whereabouts when she did not made him the first she would seek out upon entering their presence. But then it seemed like Courfeyrac was at the center of most of their gatherings. People just seemed to gravitate towards him and his carefree smile.

Just as she was going to compliment Combeferre on the lemonade, Courfeyrac stumbled upon them, as if bidden to come by their conversation of him. He still wore that same smile and Eponine found herself laughing at his jest. "We just can't help ourselves, monsieur. Your greatness leaves quite the impression." A corner of her mouth curled up into a friendly smirk as she looked up at her friend, her tone at the same time friendly and coy. Of all the Amis, Courfeyrac was one of the few she knew who could not only handle her harmless flirtations, but give as good as he gets and give Eponine no fear of him taking it further than she wished. They were friends, good friends, but friends just the same. If any of them knew her unspoken feelings for Marius, it was Courfeyrac.

Eponine found herself looking over Courfeyrac's shoulder, only for a moment, as if Marius would be following him. She knew it was silly, stupid even, but it didn't stop her hoping. It was only when Combeferre pointed out that there were only two glasses that she shook her head at the pair of them. "You can share mine if you'd like. It's very good. A little... tart, I guess. But I like it. And you can tell me what you thought of Combeferre when you first met him. It's only fair after all, since he told ma bout when he first met you. I admit, I haven't heard much about how you all came together." Eponine gathered her skirt and scoot across the grass to allow room for Courfeyrac to join them. In her joy at her friend, she forgot her reluctance to take any food from Combeferre and grabbed a sandwich, taking a hearty bite before looking up at their friend again. "Well, go on. Have a seat."

[Deleted]

The flirtatious student did not seem fazed in the slightest that he had happened upon what his friend had no doubt intended as a romantic luncheon for two. Of course, Courfeyrac was all in favor of conjugal bliss, especially where his amis were involved, so long as it served to focus rather than divert their dedication to the Cause. For some, being in love was more incentive to fight and defend their mistresses; for others, it was a distraction. Combeferre had been more or less practical in discussing his apparently-overwhelming feelings for Eponine, but that didn't mean he could understand how illogical it was that he was in love with someone who didn't love him. There were plenty of women who would be happy to have Blaise. Eponine just didn't seem to Courf to be one of them, and it was his duty, he felt, to save his friend some heartache by not allowing the two to spend time alone together when Combeferre's feelings would grow.

"Quite alright. Brought ma own," he replied, withdrawing a flask before turning back to Eponine. "They say to expect the unexpected." Like Combeferre much expected Eponine didn't like him that way. Sigh. How could he not see the gamine's obsession with Marius? Her teasing served to cheer him though, lest he become too dispirited over his friend's chances or lack thereof. "Oui, tha's what all ladies of good taste say, anyway," Courfeyrac agreed easily. "A girl like you would know, o' course, not t' set your cap after someone who 'asn't the faintest idea of 'ow te please a woman." He took a sip to punctuate the words. With any luck she might pick up a hint about Monsieur L'Abbe.

When Eponine offered him some of the tart, he gave her a winsome smile and took a bite. "Mm, bu' this is excellent, Blaise." Chewing thoughtfully, he nodded then swallowed. "See, Eponine 'ere knows 'ow to be an 'ostess. Might learn sumthin' from 'er. It seems the student 'as become the teacher." Grinning again, he chuckled at the lady's request. "What Ah thought of 'im? Ah should let 'im continue with 'is own tale first, lest 'e be any more affronted by ma interruptions." Poor fellow. Didn't know what good Courf was doing him. "Besides, Ah want te hear what ke 'as te say."

[Deleted]

“It’s nice though—he’s the heart of our little group. He always knows just what to say to brighten your day, even if it’s ridiculous. I can’t count on my fingers how many times he’s cheered me up.” Combeferre answered with a faint smile. He was his best friend, and had been for quite some time. He would have been far more homesick—lost, even—if it wasn’t for him and Enjolras. Even when he was positively frustrating, he was glad to have him around.

This was absolutely testing his patience, though. What was he trying to do? It wasn’t as if this was going to go anywhere. He wasn’t going to propose or anything—not now—since she had made it quite clear that she only wanted to be his friend, and what was so wrong about too friends having lunch together in the Luxembourg Gardens? He thought it perfectly fine, perfectly innocent.

He tried not to look too much like a sullen child as his two friends teased each other as if he wasn’t there, and instead sipped his lemonade and watched a family nearby flying kites. He wondered if that would be him in twenty years—he hoped it would be. Time would only tell what would happen in the days to come. He believed in the cause, and he was willing to die for it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid. He had faith—deep faith—in a life after death, but that didn’t mean he found the prospect of death intimidating. Depending on how it happened, it could be painless—he knew that from his studies. He was more worried about how his mother and father—in particular his mother—would feel if he fell. She would still have her other son, Jacques, but even so…she loved him, and he knew that she would be devastated to lose either of her children—but so would any other mother. He wouldn’t stay behind when other men were risking just as much as he was, even more. He wasn’t married, he didn’t have anyone to leave behind—to leave his possessions to. He glanced at Eponine pensively. She would probably kill him if she ever found out he had written her into his will, but that was the point—she couldn’t if he was already dead. He would see a lawyer tomorrow, and he would let his brother know what he planned to do.

He smiled Courfeyrac’s verbal jab and shrugged. “I suppose I did deserve that. Well, what do you want to hear? Not much else to the story—the rest, as they say, is history…I’ve been friends with this lug ever since.”

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

When Courfeyrac pulled out the flask, Eponine laughed quietly, shaking her head. "Leave it to you to come prepared. Brandy?" She smirked at him, eyeing the flask in his hand. Brandy was always her drink of choice, when she could afford to drink anyway. It made her voice rough and her head swim, even as she could feel it warm her chest. It had been a few weeks since she'd had any, and even then it was alone or with 'Parnasse, who could be a most unfriendly drunk. As she smiled at the pair before her, her mind wandered. She wondered about what kind of drunks they were. Courfeyrac was no doubt boisterous and engaging. Everyone's friend, confidant, and instigator, like he usually was only even more so. But Combeferre, he was the tougher one. She'd seen Courfeyrac drink on occasion, so picturing him was easy. Combeferre never seemed to drink anything stronger than tea. Would he be quieter, even more than usual? Or would his reserved nature disappear completely, his guard dropped to reveal a side of him maybe he himself didn't even know about? Eponine found herself wishing she could see him loosen up a little, just once. It might even be fun.

Eponine looked between them as they spoke, sharing their own memories of their friendship. She smiled brightly at them, the warm atmosphere settling in her chest. "That's it? Just friends ever since? Such a simple story." Eponine turned her gaze to Courfeyrac, her eyebrow quirking up at him. "I bet you know just about everything about him, don't you? Seen him do just about anything?" She smiled wider, setting her lemonade down and crossing her arms. "Ever seen him lie to an Inspector?" Courfeyrac knew about her past, most of it anyway. He knew who her family was, whether she wanted him to or not, so she wasn't afraid of her secret getting out with him. He knew when to be discreet if he needed to be. But she simply couldn't pass up an opportunity to have a little fun at Combeferre.