Enjolras looked at the papers in front of him, throwing them down on the table with frustration.

He had been working for the past few hours, hunched over the small desk, looking over prints. Enjolras grabbed his golden curls, tugging frustratedly. He turned and looked around the dankly-lit cafe. He was the only one still there. Everyone had gone home. He glanced at the clock, realizing it was already late at night.

Enjolras turned and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, blowing out the single candle.

Surprisingly, all he wanted at that moment was somebody to talk to. Somebody who wasn't the type of man he spent all day with, the fellow students and revolutionaries. He had gone so long without real human contact.

He would settle for anyone to talk to now.

He thought about this as he walked down the cold, soggy streets. Beggars held out their hands, and as he passed, he dropped a sou in each of their hands. They retreated, murmuring thanks.

"Monsieur!" Somebody called from across the street. A pale yellow light shone on the street.

Enjolras squinted through the fog, making his way closer to the light. He soon realized the light was coming from a doorway, and in the doorway stood an older looking man. Enjolras nodded towards him, slightly puzzled.

"You look like you might be lonely tonight, Monsieur," He winked.

Enjolras suddenly realized where this was going. He cleared his throat. "Yes... Yes, I am."

"Twenty five sous an hour, fifteen for a half."

It was pricey for him, but Enjolras thought about how lonely he really was. He had thought earlier about how he would talk to anyone right now. Anyone.

"Sure," Enjolras nodded. "I'll take half an hour."

The older man grinned, revealing a layer of mossy brown teeth. "Come wait inside. It'll be twenty minutes, sir. Warm yourself by the fire and get yourself a cup of broth for an extra five sous."

Enjolras nodded sullenly, handing over twenty sous.

Eponine stood in her bedroom, applying thick white make up all over her face by a small, cracked mirror. The weak glow of a single candle was the only light she knew.

"Eponine!" Her father yelled up the stairs, "Five minutes!"

"Alright," She called back nervously, cracking open a capsule full of pale pink blush. Her make up brush dipped into it briefly and she swiped it over both of her cheeks.

She was using her mother's old make up. This was the first time Eponine had ever used make up. Thenardier said she needed it.

He had started out by finding her sleeping in her room late that night, curled up in a fetal position, her face relaxed. He shook her awake gently.

"Father?" Eponine asked groggily, propping herself up on her elbows. "What...?"

Thenardier shushed her. "You know we've been struggling for a while, Eponine, with our finances..."

"Of course. I don't understand why you needed to wake me up in the middle of the night about it." She wiped at her eyes. Eponine was very bitter towards her father for a number of reasons.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to be as polite and nice as he could be. He decided to just cut to the chase, as harsh as it might be. "There is a man waiting for you downstairs. I've already said yes for you."

Eponine stared at him, her lips parted in shock and disgust. "I'm not going down there."

"Fifteen sous for you, Eponine."

"You're disgusting." Eponine spat.

"You're going down there or I will beat you senseless. And don't you think I'll hesitate for a second." Thenardier replied just as sharply.

Tears welled up in Eponine's eyes.

"Fine." She said behind clenched teeth.

"I've laid out one of your mother old dresses and some of her old make up in the bathroom. Be waiting in the spare room in fifteen minutes. Try to clean yourself up a little bit." Thenardier said quickly before slamming the door to her room behind him.

And now Eponine stood in her dimly lit bedroom. The dress wasn't much of a dress, but a corset. It was laced tightly so that her waist looked smaller and her breasts bigger.

The make up itched on her face, the paint seeping itself into her pores. Her lips were painted a dark red, her eyes lined in black, her cheeks bright pink.

The fumes from the make up and the tight lacing on the dress added together caused her to barely be able to breathe.

"Now!" Thenardier yelled up the stairs.

Eponine walked across the hall into the spare room, a timer that her father had given her shaking in her hands. She sat sadly with her back to the doorway on the bed, trying to keep from flinching when she heard the door creak open.

"Good evening, monsieur." Eponine tried to say in her most seductive voice, setting the timer and clicking it on, placing it gently on the night stand. She turned around slowly.

There stood Enjolras, staring back at her with just as much shock in his eyes.

"Monsieur Enjolras?" Eponine stuttered out, her voice full of confusion and disgusted surprise.

They knew each other vaguely, as Eponine normally stayed at Cafe Musain when her father was being difficult or when it was raining and she couldn't go home for a number of reasons.

"Eponine... I..." Enjolras said, his mouth gaping open.

"I never thought you would be the kind of gentleman to do this sort of thing..." Eponine looked down.

"No! It's not... I didn't..." He looked down her longingly.

"Don't..." Eponine shook her head. "I don't want to know. Let's just get this done with..." She reached to the back of her corset.

Enjolras held up both of his hands. "No, no, no. Stop."

She stopped, her hands hanging awkwardly in the air. "What? Didn't you come here to...?"

"I didn't actually," He replied, sitting down on the bed. "I just needed somebody to talk to is all... Really..."

"So you got a prostitute?"

"Yes. I suppose I did."

"You know that talking isn't really their forte, Monsieur Enjolras." Eponine tried to keep from laughing, given the circumstance.

"I'm quite desperate," Enjolras shot back, a grin cracking on his face.

So they sat, making conversation. Enjolras talked of things that were bothering him, how there were always too many papers to fill out, too many messages to deliver. Eponine just sat and listened, nodding occasionally, wiping the make up off of her face with the already dirty bedsheets.

The timer buzzed. They both jumped from the noise, deep in conversation.

Enjolras rose from the bed, clearing his throat. Eponine looked at him slowly.

"Thank you for your time, madame," He said softly, taking her hand in his, placing his lips against it softly. "I hope I don't find you like this again..."

"I'm afraid I don't have a choice, monsieur." She blushed.

Enjolras looked at her for a long time, his jaw set hard. "If you're father is to force you into anything like this again, you are to come find me, Eponine."

"What do you mean?"

"You have a window, climb out of it. I'll either be at the cafe or my apartment. Okay?"

She looked down.

"Okay?"

Eponine nodded. "Okay. I look forward to the next time we can do this. Hopefully not in this circumstance."

Enjolras nodded, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry that I woke you up."

She shook her head. "It was worth it. Trust me."

He tipped his head towards her and left, closing the door softly behind him. Eponine grinned, turned over on her side, and fell asleep.