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, ( Read more... )

( This was far from the first time Éponine had ever slipped away from some strange place in the middle of the night. )

As it happened, she'd been out wandering around early this morning when the jalapeños swooped in. Even if she had been half lost in some disjointed fantasy about waking up one morning to find that the island had moved in the middle of the night to a spot in the Seine, snuggled up to Île de la Cité (Éponine's brain was a special place), it was ( Read more... )

It was hard to tell at which point Éponine's plan of sleeping in the empty warehouse until she found a place to live evolved into just living in the warehouse. She most likely wouldn't be able to tell you, anyway, if you asked, but the longer she kept coming back to that one particular warehouse to sleep, the more of her things she started keeping ( Read more... )