Éponine's Not-So-Abandoned Warehouse, Monday Evening
Éponine did not, in point of fact, remember the weekend at all. She'd woken up this morning wearing the same clothes she remembered wearing on Friday, though that in and of itself wasn't so unusual that she'd take note of it. But you heard things when you spent your day wandering all around town (even more so when you made a point of listening, since you never knew what useful information you might overhear), and in between that and the radio broadcast it didn't take her long to figure out that she'd missed one of those weekends.
She wouldn't complain about that, really, even if she had been a bit curious about seeing the people who'd come back for it.
She'd come home from work with several containers of takeout from Ching Tai and half a dozen new books, the latter of which were carefully put away on the shelves in the warehouse's office before she took the takeout container of broccoli beef, propped the front door open, and sat cross-legged on the front step to enjoy her dinner and, possibly, people-watch a bit.
[OOC: Sure, I decide to play the difficult one when I'm exhausted. IDK. Open!]
She wouldn't complain about that, really, even if she had been a bit curious about seeing the people who'd come back for it.
She'd come home from work with several containers of takeout from Ching Tai and half a dozen new books, the latter of which were carefully put away on the shelves in the warehouse's office before she took the takeout container of broccoli beef, propped the front door open, and sat cross-legged on the front step to enjoy her dinner and, possibly, people-watch a bit.
[OOC: Sure, I decide to play the difficult one when I'm exhausted. IDK. Open!]