"And how might I benefit your future, mademoiselle?"

Eponine is at a loss of words thanks to her fright. The blond man with the stony face has sat beside her in a storm of action and she is sure that it's all because of the freely flowing alcohol. Lamarque is dead and it's the beginning of a revolt; of history changing. She narrows her eyes at the man, although it's not from anger – she's genuinely curious. Eponine is not sure if she has ever seen this man smile, even though she's only frequented the café irregularly to be a carrying pigeon for Marius. With the General's death, the boys are celebrating the promise of a brighter future although Eponine isn't sure that she understands. Why are they excited? They're not the ones who will suffer if their grandeur ideas fail. They'll return back to their bourgeois lifestyles and forget all about the poor they so valiantly fought for. But in that moment, the man's excitement is contagious.

The smile immediately spreads to her lips, balancing out the sadness she had felt from earlier. Marius spends another evening pining away over the little lark and Eponine is left alone to be drawn back to the warmth and light of the café.

"Monsieur, I feel the wine has affected you strongly if you think you can help someone like me." Eponine's eyes drop to the tabletop and her smile fades as quickly as it appeared. When she looks up to the man again, his face is noticeably more serious, though the redness in his pale cheeks remains thanks to the alcohol. But he has asked her a question that makes her think – what could he do to benefit her future? It's in that moment that she realizes how important this whole uprising is to the young man. It's on his shoulders even if she doesn't understand why. She contemplates reaching for his hand but it's inappropriate, especially in this setting. Instead, Eponine plants the smile back on her lips if only for his wellbeing.

His eyes seem heavy, as if there's something weighing on his heart and he wants to share it. Instead, Eponine claps her hands together and stands up. "I have thought of something you could do," she announces, glancing around the room full of his peers. "Two things actually." He looks up at her, his eyes squinting slightly thanks to the alcohol blurring his vision.

"First, please tell me your name – the name of the man who would fight for the poor!" She supposes it could come off as biting and rude, but he instead returns her smile. "Enjolras," he says simply and it's enough for her.

"You said two things." He seems to be in higher spirits; the heaviness from moments before passing by without a second thought. With the smile still on her face, she holds a hand out to the man. "Dance with me?"

Enjolras laughs, his eyes dancing themselves. "Shouldn't it be I asking you, mademoiselle?"

"I fear the time for inequality between us has passed, no?"

She does have a point, and Enjolras allows the woman to lead him away from the table to the small clearing in the room. A few of the other men have invited their mistresses around for the celebration and luckily he and this woman are not the only ones twirling to non existent music. She hasn't shared her name and Enjolras does not press for the information.

Instead, the thoughts of whatever might happen in her future, his future, and the future of France are all replaced by the silent music in their minds and Eponine's tattered dress turning around her legs.

Turning, turning, turning.