Eponine has been avoiding the Home; more than ever since the blood in the bathroom, since Bev's living with Hopper, and she can't pull herself from a particularly bad dream -- or those knowing whispers, those shadows that might be a dream and might be real and might be madness -- and go curl up next to her friend shamefully until they're both feeling more easy. Even when there's nothing in particular that's happened, the whole place feels wrong.
It keeps her at school, well enough, but it's not a good incentive to come home.
And maybe this boy, murmuring suggestions in her ear and buying her drinks, isn't a wonderful solution, but he's better, and he hasn't tried too much really, which makes him almost a gentleman in Eponine's view. She's tipsy and letting herself act it, giggling at his jokes, but she's thinking ahead to how to put him off soon.
"...hang at my dorm?" he's asking and she laughs and kisses him and says "My flat-mate is going to think I'm dead in a ditch."
"Fuck your flatmate," he says, "can't you just text her?"
That's when she spies him, smoking on a bench in the light of the home, all backlit but still recognizable in his short hair and angular profile, rangy limbs and cigarette, eyes on the street. "Marcus," she says without thinking.
"Marcus?" the boy says, confused and suspicious in his drunkenness. "Who the fuck is Marcus? You live with a guy?"
"No, he's," she can't give away her address, or explain properly, and her mind whirrs forward to an answer. A solution, in fact. "My uncle. You should meet him," Eponine exclaims, over-giddy in the way that she imagines smitten girls are, wrapping her arms around the boy's arm and tugging gently. "He's great, he'll like you!"
"Oh. Um. Maybe I..."
"I've had such a wonderful night with you," she babbles away, leading him by the hand. "Marcus!" She waves.
"You know, I really gotta get going," the boy says more firmly, and smiles pacifically, leaning to kiss her on the cheek as they hit the intersection. "How about I call you?"
"Well, I suppose, but don't forget," she says, and lingers for just a moment, then watches as he takes off. She feels a bit heady with drink, but it doesn't mean she isn't sharp enough to watch, still.
"All right," she says to Marcus, plunking herself down next to him on the bench, a little less gracefully than she'd have like. "You caught me, or whatnot. It was good timing, though, wasn't it? Introducing a boy to family straight off always shakes them." She can't help a giggle.
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It keeps her at school, well enough, but it's not a good incentive to come home.
And maybe this boy, murmuring suggestions in her ear and buying her drinks, isn't a wonderful solution, but he's better, and he hasn't tried too much really, which makes him almost a gentleman in Eponine's view. She's tipsy and letting herself act it, giggling at his jokes, but she's thinking ahead to how to put him off soon.
"...hang at my dorm?" he's asking and she laughs and kisses him and says "My flat-mate is going to think I'm dead in a ditch."
"Fuck your flatmate," he says, "can't you just text her?"
That's when she spies him, smoking on a bench in the light of the home, all backlit but still recognizable in his short hair and angular profile, rangy limbs and cigarette, eyes on the street. "Marcus," she says without thinking.
"Marcus?" the boy says, confused and suspicious in his drunkenness. "Who the fuck is Marcus? You live with a guy?"
"No, he's," she can't give away her address, or explain properly, and her mind whirrs forward to an answer. A solution, in fact. "My uncle. You should meet him," Eponine exclaims, over-giddy in the way that she imagines smitten girls are, wrapping her arms around the boy's arm and tugging gently. "He's great, he'll like you!"
"Oh. Um. Maybe I..."
"I've had such a wonderful night with you," she babbles away, leading him by the hand. "Marcus!" She waves.
"You know, I really gotta get going," the boy says more firmly, and smiles pacifically, leaning to kiss her on the cheek as they hit the intersection. "How about I call you?"
"Well, I suppose, but don't forget," she says, and lingers for just a moment, then watches as he takes off. She feels a bit heady with drink, but it doesn't mean she isn't sharp enough to watch, still.
"All right," she says to Marcus, plunking herself down next to him on the bench, a little less gracefully than she'd have like. "You caught me, or whatnot. It was good timing, though, wasn't it? Introducing a boy to family straight off always shakes them." She can't help a giggle.