I am lost. To be found? (Montparnasse)

[followedmyheart]

It was late. Too late. The summer's air had gone from warm and sunny to cold and dark. The sun had dipped below the horizon long ago; Cosette should already be home. She thought of her Papa, whom she had left at home with a fever. While she had stayed by his side all day, he knew that it pained her not to help the poor as they always did on Sundays. Eventually, he had convinced her to go by herself.
She had called upon Combeferre. They enjoyed handing out alms together and it was twice as fast as doing it by herself. Besides, the task made Combeferre happy and they had a chance to catch up with each other. They had talked of Eponine and the Amis latest plans. Discussions were certainly heated these days between Enjolras and the rest of the gang; they were planning something big. Cosette chewed on her lower lip, worrying about Marius. What if he were to be caught up in bad times, in the crossfire of such fiery events? She admired his bravery and devotion to the Revolution, but what if he should fall?
Cosette forbid herself from dwelling on such thoughts. After Combeferre had departed from her to attend a class and then meeting, she had assumed she was wandering home to Rue Plumet in the right direction. She had spend the remainders of twilight light window shopping and had lost track of time as well as her path. Her father was always around to guide her home; she had never ventured out on her own.
Now it was well past curfew. She shivered slightly, looking up at the few twinkling stars. The northern star was nowhere to be seen, lost behind dark clouds that threatened rain. Even the simplest of guides was lost to her.
Cosette caught a flicker of movement to her left. She paused in her wandering, fiddling with the lace gloves on her pale hands. Was it someone that meant her harm?
"Pardon?" She reminded herself that she was wild and brave at heart. Had not she spent many nights alone as a child? She had spent her life alone, even with her father at her side, it should feel normal to her. And yet...the thought of a stranger nearby set her on edge.
She narrowed her eyes, letting them sharpen in the faint candlelight shining from a window a few houses away. The stranger's face stood out clearly the more she watched and Cosette exhaled slowly. He was familiar after all, the chiseled face of Montparnasse unforgettable in it's handsome features.
Cosette had never met Michel personally. Whenever she had seen him across a crowded streets or hanging around Eponine, Marius had made sure to steer her in the opposite direction. He had claimed the young man to be a skirt chaser and highly dangerous, with an unhealthy intoxication with Eponine Thenardier. While this obsession with the pretty gamin gave Marius reason to believe Michel would leave Cosette alone, he still never wished to leave her alone to find out. Cosette was a pretty wild flower, one Marius seemed constantly afraid others would try to steal for themselves.
"Montparnasse..." Cosette acknowledged him quietly, giving a small curtsy as her manners set in automatically. "Might you show me the way home Monsieur?"

[MICHEL MONTPARNASSE]

The night was young, and Montparnasse felt at the peak of his talents. Though the Rue Saint-Denis was as active that night any other, he found his path taking him elsewhere in the fading twilight hours. The square was almost deserted, the market packed up for the night and the workers who hung about waiting for employment gone back to whatever miserable dens they curled up into for the night. They were mostly immaterial to Montparnasse anyway; unemployed, they scarcely had anything worthwhile to steal. It was theft which had prevented him from becoming one of them, kept him dressed in fine clothing and able to live in as much leisure as anyone born outside the aristocracy could ever hope to experience.

It was theft, also, which drove him through the quickly darkening streets of Paris. A cat yowled from somewhere behind him, and the wind picked up some abandoned scrap of paper, trimmed in the colors of the tricolore, and threw it toward his feet. He stepped around it, letting it continue its course directed by the wind. The weather was pleasant, the cool wind invigorating. He desired a glass of Pernod or even of brandy, and perhaps before morning he would seek out Eponine's company. The desire for both was there already, but for once he felt he could not afford the lethargy that might follow either.

The appearance of a young girl on the half-deserted square caught his attention. He knew he had seen her before, but only ever in passing—mostly in the company of the student with whom Eponine was infatuated. He smirked, but froze when she called him by name. Perhaps Marius had learned his name from Eponine and this young woman from him, but Montparnasse typically relied on not being recognized as an individual by people of her standing in society. It was more difficult to steal from someone who knew exactly who he was, someone who knew the reputation he carried.

More confusing was that, instead of trying to get away from him, she seemed almost relieved to see him. Correcting himself, he bowed with as much grace as he could manage—a sincere enough attempt to show a few of the manners associated with his style of dress. The young woman was pretty, but the reasons he had not gone to chase after Eponine prevailed.

“Mademoiselle,” he tipped his hat slightly to add to the gentlemanly effect. This, now, was an odd request—practically an invitation to follow home a girl whose Sunday afternoon activities told Montparnasse lived with money to spare. An opportunity, certainly, even if one which would delay his night's work. Well, if it paid off in the long run, the delay could be afforded. “I might,” he answered finally in as charming a tone as he could muster, “only I do not know where you live.” He paused for a moment, speaking with a cultivated laziness that he always hoped passed for fashionability. “If mademoiselle gave me the address, however, I might be able to oblige.”