It was a dark and stormy night (Open) (INACTIVE)

[evan2]

The rain, that was one of the worst things about his currently horrible life right now.
"The rain in spain doesn't fall on the plains it falls here. Nasty Filthy dirty weather."

He was tired, he was cold, he was wet, he was hungry and he needed a fix.
"Everyone hides from the rain, every one. Not a cat, or a rat, or even a nice fat pigeon, no all hiding from the nasty weather. No moneys, no hot dogs, no drugs, no nothing." He started to cough, a long wet rough hacking cough.

He checked a nearby garbage can, nothing was in it. Trash day was this morning. "No food either. Nasty filthy day."

Smythe stiffened. "What was that?" He heard, or thought he heard some one behind him. He ducked into an alley and drew his knife, taking small comfort in the shadows and the glittering blade.

"You'll protect us? Won't you, Precious?" He started to cough again.

[JANE EYRE]

Jane was lost. And of all places to get lost it had to be in the Bronx. She had been asked to help another school hand up pieces for its first student art show and when it started raining, Jane had her umbrella but lost her way. It was difficult for the art teacher to navigate unfamiliar streets in the downpour.

A bicycle messanger tore down the street at her and Jane instinctively stepped into an alley to avoided being hit. She didn't need her only coat getting covered in mud. Jane was ready to keep walking when she heard something down the alley. Turning, Jane was a little startled to see a figure of a man huddled over a trashcan for a second before dashing off to the side.

Jane knew it probably wasn't the best idea to wander down an alley in the Bronx at night when she knew that someone was down there, but Jane had to make sure that whoever was down there was okay.

"Hello?" Jane took a couple hesitant steps further into the channel.

[ÉPONINE THÉNARDIER]

"Get OUT, 'Ponine!"

Éponine stumbled out onto the crumbling sidewalk, nothing but a dark shadow patched here and there with pale skin. She was dressed in nothing but a black lace bra and black leather pants. She didn't even have shoes. This sucked, because it was cold. October in New York City was always cold! He knew that! She turned back to the door and stuck up her middle finger at the retreating shadow. "With pleasure! Damnez-vous, vous l'idiot stupide! I ain't doin' your dirty work zis time! And ya betta give me back my damn clothes!" she snarled while shaking her fist. Montparnasse's only response was to pitch Éponine's jacket out the window. It floated down to her and she caught it with one hand. She slipped it on and cursed under her breath. She had a few shirts stashed up in that apartment, but now she wouldn't have access to them until Montparnasse was out of trouble. The police were on his tail again and he hadn't bothered to tell Éponine this until after he'd asked for a little bit of fun. He had manipulated her! He knew full well that she wanted nothing to do with him when the police were a threat. The last thing she wanted was to get tangled in all of that.

Granted, when Montparnasse killed somebody, he was usually very neat about it. He didn't do stupid things like leave the body lying around or doing something very conspicuous. After all, he made a profession out of this. Despite his age, he was not just some amateur. He did this for a living. He was even working his way up the chain. Since most of Patron Minette was in prison right now, he didn't have to restrict his services to gang-related business. He was branching out, and his skill was beginning to take the notice of some of the bigger crime bosses in the city. However, that didn't mean that mistakes didn't happen. The police had picked up some of his finger prints at the scene of a recent murder, and now they were on his tail. Knowing him, he'd be able to shake them off sooner rather than later, but Éponine did not want to take any chances. She had spent one night in the police station already, and that was enough. She'd been extremely lucky that they hadn't discovered her illegal citizenship then. As crappy as life was here, she couldn't imagine what it would be like if she was deported back to France.

Muttering to herself, Éponine tightened her jacket around her. It was too thin, and the breeze that drifted through the brick buildings that surrounded her chilled her to the bone. She spat on the ground and rubbed her upper arms to try and create some heat between her arms and her sleeves. To top it all off, it was raining. Éponine hated the rain! It got her wet and then it was so hard to dry off! She'd never owned an umbrella. She spotted some newspaper that wasn't wet yet. She picked it up and held it over her head as a shield. She needed both hands, so her coat gaped open in front where it wasn't tied together.

Where was she supposed to go now? Fagin's, maybe? He lived almost fifteen blocks away. That was a really long walk from here, especially in the rain. Dally's? Windrixville was closer, but it was still a bit of a walk. It was raining too hard to make that trek now. She crept around, trying to find shelter. Nothing could be more melancholy than to see her sport about the street, and, so to speak, flit with the movements of a bird which is frightened by the daylight, or which has broken its wing. Nearby, it seemed that one particular alley was narrow enough to keep the rain from getting in. She slid between the walls and found herself face to face with a creature of a man. She was so surprised that she leaped back and drew her knife from the little holster that was attached to her tight black pants. "'Oo are ya? Whatcha after?" she demanded with a demented look upon her face. This just made her night even worse. She held out her knife in front of her, but her arm trembled with cold. She slapped her left hand over her arm in an attempt to steady it, but it did no good. Her wet black hair hung around her face and she could only hope that she looked demonic enough to keep him from harming her. One could never be sure of the people that one encountered on a dark evening in the alleyways of New York.

It was then that she noticed another person there. She could tell without even looking too closely that this was not a person familiar with the streets. She stood upright and had an umbrella instead of a knife. "'Ey, sweet 'eart, ya lost? I'd get outta 'ere before ya 'ave ta see some zing zat ya don't wanna see." Éponine barely moved her eyes from the creep in front of her, only glancing at the other girl for a moment before turning her eyes back to the man and pinning them there.

[/blockquote]

[evan2]

"Does she want to hurt us?" Smythe was unsure about this first person. "Who is she? We wonder will she be..." Smythe broke into a hacking cough. "Oh Nasty Filthy Weather, it *cough cough cough* Always gets worse when it rains."

The someone else stepped into the alley. This one bore a knife. "Oh we know what you want, nasty person, you want to hurt poor Smythe, yes you want to hurt us with that nasty stinging knife. Perhaps we should hurt her first, Precious?"

Smythe backed into a corner. "Maybe the first one is with the second one. Maybe they both want to hurt us and take what we have. But Poor Smythe has nothing. Nothing. Go take from some one else. Someone with fat pockets."

In his state of misery and paranoia, Smythe didn't realize that he probably could have taken them on. With his feelings of degradation he couldn't see an opportunity. He just hoped they would leave him in peace.

But perhaps they were spies for the Dark One. Perhaps they were after him and not just what he might be carrying. He eyed them warily.

[ÉPONINE THÉNARDIER]

Éponine knew exactly what she looked like to both of the people in the alleyway with her: a prostitute. She was not a prostitute, not anymore. However, they did happen to catch her at a very bad time if it were Éponine's goal to convince them that she was not a hooker. Her jacket was gaping open in the front, so her bra was not hidden, and her pants were a little too tight. She didn't even like these pants. Montparnasse had "purchased" them for her. The leather did not keep her warm, and that was Éponine's prime concern in shopping for clothing. They did, however, complement her skinny legs very nicely, which was probably why Montparnasse had given them to her. She didn't ask where he'd gotten them, because she really didn't care. Éponine had few enough articles of clothing that she wasn't about to complain when she got something else to wear. What she had, she carried around in a carpet bag. That was whenever she wasn't crashing at Montparnasse's or Dally's or the Curtises'. These possessions usually included two shirts, a pair of pants (two if she was lucky), a couple of hats, a few cans of spray paint, an assortment of canned food, and her knife.

Éponine was actually very attached to her knife. She had nicked it off of a Boy Scout not long after she'd gotten to America. It had served her well. It opened her food, ensured her security, and did so many other things that she had need of. It had also saved her life on many occasions, most notably when she'd been in Kings delivering something for her father. The gang leader had decided to play with 'Ponine a bit, even though Éponine had distinctly said that she was not for sale that night. Before Éponine could respond, most of the gang was pulling at her, pushing her, and tugging at her clothing. She threw a punch but then found herself pressed up against the wall with a knife at her throat. The guy holding the knife to her throat stole a kiss and groped her, but she kneed him in the groin and he backed off in a hurry. His knife, however, slit her open across her chest, beginning at her collarbone. Éponine didn't quite remember how she'd managed to escape, but she had. The wound wasn't deep, but it bled profusely. She nursed her own wounds, since she couldn't very well get to a hospital. The poor treatment she'd given herself had left her with a long scar where she'd been cut open. It was twisted and pink and ugly. That scar was very noticeable now, even in the darkness. She usually took good care to conceal it, but tonight Montparnasse had all her shirts. The bastard.

It became clear very quickly that this man in her presence was not a threat. He was a creep, and nothing more. He seemed a bit addled, judging from the way he spoke, almost in third-person. He addressed his knife as "Precious." That was just strange. Éponine was fond of her knife, too, but she'd never named it! The little man backed away into a corner and continued to mutter to himself. Éponine looked at him with disgust. There were plenty of people like him on the street, but he could at least do her and this other poor sally the decency of addressing them and going his own way. The way he was looking at them made it look like he had something to hide. Then again, everyone had something to hide, Éponine included. She kept her knife held up in front of her. She wasn't only protecting herself, but this other girl, too. Éponine was skilled in judging people quickly, and she knew without question that this other girl was simply lost. The look on her face said plenty. All she had was an umbrella, after all. Éponine had heard rumors that those things were dangerous, but it still probably wouldn't do any good in a fight. In light of this, Éponine figured that this girl needed a little hand so that she wouldn't get herself into too much trouble.

There was still the question of whether or not the other female would accept Éponine's help. After all, Éponine was pretty intimidating by herself. The girl probably wasn't sure who to fear more, Éponine or the creep. Éponine's current state of undress wasn't helping her to seem heroic, that was for sure. That only made Éponine even angrier at Montparnasse. How could he send her off into the street with hardly any clothes on, knowing the kind of people who wandered the streets of the Bronx at night? She was lucky that this man was clearly weaker than her, because the odds had not been in her favor. She could have easily walked into someone who had a bit more strength and male hormones to his name. This fellow seemed even more rat-like than Fagin, who was the King of the Rats, according to Mercutio (when he was high). "I ain't 'urtin' ya unless ya 'urtin' me, first!" Éponine said, giving a threatening wave of her knife. "And trust me, I don't want nozing ya 'ave!"

Feeling sure that she wasn't about to be attacked, she turned her head to the other woman. "'Oney, I suggest ya step out under ya nice little umbrella zere. Ya don't need ta be associatin' wiz ze likes a 'im. 'E's just a creep, probably 'armless, but better safe zan sorry." Tremors ran through Éponine's body from cold, and she tried to steady herself. She took a deep breath in and out and felt stronger, but just by a little bit. She glanced back at the creep to watch her back. "Are ya lost? I know zis town, I might be able ta getcha back if ya want." She said this as an excuse to get out of the alleyway. The woman probably wouldn't take her up on it, but it was worth a shot. Éponine wasn't offering out of kindness, because Éponine was rarely kind. She couldn't quite identify her reasons. However, if it could get her out of this undesirable situation, she would jump on it.

[/blockquote]

[JANE EYRE]

Jane was more than a little concerned at how the situation was developing. The scantily clad woman was trying to do her a favor, Jane knew, but she was also brandishing a knife at the man who had backed away and continued to mutter to himself. Pulling what little courage Jane had, she took a step closer. "I'm not going to leave until I'm sure that he's alright, at least for the night," Jane refused to ignore her Christian upbringing from boarding school, no matter the possible danger.

"Sir," Jane leaned a little to get a better look at the man. "Is there anything I can do to help you? I'd offer you some money but I don't have any," Jane gripped her umbrella tighter. If needed, she could use it as a makeshift weapon, no matter how feeble it was. Jane was pretty sure that even if she did use the umbrella as a bludgeon, her spindly arms would do little damage. Jane wasn't even sure that she could run if she had to. She was wearing her business shoes which were pumps with just enough of a heel for it to be impossible to run in.

Sparing a glance at the woman, Jane moved closer still until she was just a little in front of the other woman. Jane hoped that she would still be willing to help after being ignored.

[evan2]

Smythe put the knife away coughing. The first girl seemed to be too kind hearted to be in His service. The other one he wasn't sure about the other one. She might be a servant of the Foul One but he couldn't tell.

He thought about her offer."Money we could use. But mainly we are cold and hungry..." He launched into another coughing fit. "But maybe you should get away from her." He gestured to the other woman.

"She might serve the Dark One, The Cruel One. You should get away from her. He has eyes everywhere, you can never tell. He brought us here, tortured us. He has servants everywhere."

He looked around franticly, and reached for his knife. He didn't pull it out since there was a chance that the girl wasn't a servant of the Dark one, however if she was he would have to be wary of an attack. The Dark One had servants everywhere, he had to be careful so very careful.

[ÉPONINE THÉNARDIER]

Éponine was unprepared for the way the situation began to unfold after she addressed the other woman in her presence. As it was, the last thing she really wanted was to be a tour guide for the lost soul. Éponine wasn't typically the do-good-for-others type. The only time she helped someone was when it was beneficial to her as well. Helping this other person would only benefit her a little, because it would get her away from the potentially dangerous creep, too. Usually, that wasn't enough for her. Still, it wouldn't hurt anything for Éponine to lend a hand, so that's what she had done. However, her way of lending a hand was clearly very different from the other woman's. In Éponine's world, lending a hand meant providing an extra knife in a fight or hiding someone from their enemies. Material help was rarely heard of. She simply had nothing to share. It wasn't like she could go home to her plentiful closet and pick out some clothes to give away to a friend. It wasn't like she had a home to shelter someone in for the night. Éponine helped in the only way she knew how. Protecting this other, clearly disadvantaged woman, was her definition of being helpful.

The woman with the umbrella seemed to think of help differently. Éponine's jaw dropped as the other woman insisted on helping the creepy man. She even offered him money! That was something Éponine rarely witnessed. She wasn't usually the begging type, but she'd never had anyone just offer her money out of the kindness of their hearts. Any money Éponine had she had earned herself over the past two years. She had a stash of money that was actually getting fairly substantial, but she was saving that for something specific and difficult. The allowance she gave herself for food and clothing was minimal. The whole idea was that she would save the money and be able to essentially buy a better life for herself in the future. She would never have to depend on Montparnasse or her father or even Dally and the Curtises again. With this is mind, she was better able to accept her lot in life for the time being. She knew that if she was diligent, she would never have to live like this again. She didn't spend money on non-essentials; she found other ways of acquiring them. She'd nicked the bra she was wearing from a storefront. The jacket was from a thrift store, and the pants had been given to her by Montparnasse. It was her lot in life for now. It wasn't a lot, but it was a life.

As soon as the creep put his knife away, Éponine did the same. She tucked her knife back into its holster, safely away but ready in case things took a turn for the worse later. She stared at the woman in shock as she dared to move closer to the creature of a man. Fine, lady, if you want to be stupid, go right ahead, Éponine thought. The kindness of the woman was truly perplexing to Éponine. She'd never seen it firsthand. At least, not when she was involved. Obviously, when she was skulking around Central Park she saw the pretty middle class people be nice to each other. However, she'd never seen one of them extend such a gracious hand to someone of Éponine's class. Most of them had the idea that low-class people like Éponine deserved what they had because they refused to work and just expected handouts. That was far from the truth. Sure, there were some people like that, and Éponine could not deny that there were criminals around her. Montparnasse was a prime example. Still, this stereotype did not apply to everyone. This lady was the rare exception. She didn't seem to have this outlook.

When the woman looked back at Éponine, the dark-haired wretch simply shrugged as if to say, "Do what you must." She pulled her coat tighter around her and briefly spaced out, thinking only about how much she hated Montparnasse at that moment. Then, she heard the creep beginning to advise the other woman concerning Éponine, and she came back to earth. "Listen, buddy, I don't serve nobody and nozin'. I ain't no servant. I'm a person just like any of ya." This time her words were not quite so biting and angry. This was because she knew that she was lying through her teeth. She certainly did not serve the Dark One, but that did not mean she was not a servant. She had served her father for years. It had defined her. Sure, she tried to be independent. Nevertheless, she knew at the core of her being that if her father ever got out of prison, she would return to serving him. She didn't want to and she loathed the idea, but it was an action that was built into her. She could only hope that such a day never came.

She looked from the creep to the Good Samaritan and shifted her weight. "Do ya want directions or no?" she asked the woman. "'Cause if no, I'd really like to go find a place where I can get myself some clothes. It effing cold out 'ere!" Éponine felt goosebumps rising on her stomach and chest. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up with the same cough the creep had. Considering it was pneumonia that had killed her mother, Éponine usually tried to stay as warm as she could. She really hoped this woman would make up her mind. Honestly, Éponine wasn't going to stop her from doing her good deed, but if she wasn't needed, she would really like to start heading to Windrixville. She was pretty sure Dallas would have some clothes lying around. If not, she knew Darry would lend her a shirt faster than she could blink. She almost smiled at the thought. The Curtises were good people. They broke the stereotype, too. It was nice knowing she could rely on someone with no strings attached.

[/blockquote]

[JANE EYRE]

"I don't have any money, I'm poor too," Jane smiled wryly. At the woman. "I need to get to Brooklyn. I was here helping a school and I got lost," Jane was glad that the woman relaxed a little and wasn't so defensive. The situation had dissolved itself without too much drama. If anything, the shocked looked that came over the woman's face when Jane offered help made Jane even more concerned. She hated suffering having lived through her own special kind and was momentarily disgusted with society; for someone to be surprised at help was terrible. That disgust faded almost immediately and was replaced by guilt. Society had accepted her even though she was worth nothing and had little to offer.

"If you'd both like, we could go back to my apartment. You could dry off and I could fix you somet supper. It's awfully cold out, I wouldn't want either of you catching a cold," Jane thought nothing of offering her home to two strangers for the evening. She felt that it was her Christian duty to aid all those she could. It was what had been instilled in her from her childhood and it was what she practiced now. "My name's Jane," She added.

[evan2]

Smythe relaxed a little bit when she mentioned that she didn't serve anybody. At the other woman's mention of dinner, Smythe brightened. "Yess. A warm place? A Safe Place? We would like a nice warm meal. Yes, Precious." He broke into a coughing fit.

"Brooklyn? Smythe can show you to Brooklyn. We can take you down the ways the bad men don't take, the ways they don't know. Yesss we can guide you to Brooklyn, can't we precious. We'll guide Jane home safe."

He dashed over to the opening of the alley and checked the road. "Come along quickly. It looks like the nasty rain has stopped. No telling when it'll start up again."

[ÉPONINE THÉNARDIER]

It really was a shame how unfamiliar Éponine was with kindness. It was so strange to her that she didn't know how to react to the woman. Usually, people in the situation of Miss Jane here would scream and yell and carry on while attempting to call the police on the fancy cell phones. They would not have stayed around long enough to find out that Éponine really mean no harm. She was a bit like a wild animal. She only pulled out her knife to defend herself, not because she really wanted to hurt anyone. She was pretty sure that this Smythe fellow as the same way. They were like alley cats in comparison to Montparnasse's snow leopard. Éponine only bit when bitten. Montparnasse killed because he directly benefited from it. Éponine hid in shadows for her own safety, but Montparnasse used shadows to disguise himself before launching himself toward his victim. They rarely saw him coming.

How could Jane discern the difference? Was she wise, or just stupid? After all, Éponine's knife had been in plain sight. Any other person would have run for the hills rather than risk the chance that Éponine's knife or Smythe's knife would turn in their direction. Why didn't Jane do the same thing? It was perplexing. What on earth had inspired her to not only stay but to offer them food and shelter? Éponine couldn't say what she'd do for certain if she were in Jane's position. She was too single-minded for such suppositions. Nevertheless, she knew that she couldn't possibly be so kindhearted. Jane was really sticking her neck out for two complete strangers. Éponine still hadn't made up her mind if this was bravery of stupidity. All she knew was that Jane was lucky that she had run into Éponine and Smyther instead of some of the many more sinister face that lurked in the Bronx.

Éponine stood there shivering in her small amount of clothing. The tremors were becoming more violent, and the girl realized that she didn't have much time to consider Jane's offer. Smyther had already indicated that he would go. Brooklyn was certainly closer than either Windrixville or Fagin's shop. Éponine knew that Montparnasse wasn't about to let her back inside after their brawl. If not for the fact that he still had most of her clothes, Éponine would be more than happy to stay away. If the cops were after him, Éponine wanted nothing to do with him. She was made that perfectly clear, and that's what had gotten her kicked out. She had to admit that a warm meal and a roof over her head sounded too good resist, especially after the night she'd had already. She pulled her jacet closer and looked at Jane.

"All right, I zink I'll join you. My name is Veronique Balizard. You can call me Vera," Éponine said. She used one of her many aliases instead of her true name because she still wasn't entirely comfortable with either Jane or Smyther. Her identity was her most important possession, and she didn't give it away freely. She followed Smythe out of the alley. She reached into her pocket and puled out a scrap of paper and an old pencil. On it she scribbled: Damn you. At least I get a hot meal. - E. She picked up a rock from the sidewalk, wrapped the note around it, and then chucked it with all her might toward Montparnasse's window. She hoped it hit him. She loved the lovely sound of breaking glass and then darted off after Smythe, checking over her shoulder to see if Jane was following them.

[/blockquote]

[JANE EYRE]

Jane was a little alarmed at Vera's behavior. Throwing a rock through a window at random is a bizarre, not to mention violent on a much, smaller level than just destruction. Jane shook herself and followed after Smythe, walking quickly until she was beside Vera. Jane adjusted the umbrella so it covered both of them and kept a careful eye on Smythe ahead of them, she didn't want to lose him.

"Is everthing alright?" Jane asked carefully after a few moments of relative silence, the only sounds being the rain, footsteps, and passing cars. She didn't want to intrude but she was concerned. Vera seemed to have suffered from a flash of anger while Smythe reacted in the oposite way, having bound off happily.

Not wanting to dwell on it too heavily, Jane turned her thoughts to what she could cook them. She had a little hamburger and a lot of soup. Soup would probably be best. It was very warm and very filling. Not to mention it would be easy to pack it up and send some with Smythe and Vera.

[evan2]

Smythe was too busy scouting ahead to notice what the knife girl did. He kept to the shadows and the alleyways, however these were shadows and alleyways he knew were safe. These were pathways the more unsavory elements of society didn't use. And as he went, Smythe marked his passage so that they could follow him if he got to far ahead.

Unfortunately things like this tend to change, and so Smythe came up behind a mugger who was using the alleyway as an outpost of some sort.

Smythe looked behind him , and saw that he was alone for the moment. "We can't have any nasty peoples barring our way can we Precious?" He whispered to his knife and he drew it and brought it across the would be muggers neck.

For a moment he considered going through the man's pockets to see if he had anything of value, but then he figured it wouldn't looked very good if the girls came up on him while he searched for the fallen man's valuables.

Smythe thought for a second.

He bent over and started going through the mans pockets.-

[ÉPONINE THÉNARDIER]

Éponine - or rather, Veronique - was beginning to get quite the headache. It crept upon her shortly after she had thrown the rock at Montparnasse's window. It was brought on by cold and hunger, and it wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. Éponine hated the fact that she had to rely on scumbags like Montparnasse to get any comfort in life. The poor wretch was as thin as a rake, with arms that barely seemed able to function for their skinniness. It was so pale that it seemed to glow in the moonlight sometimes. She had been compared to a skeleton before. Her waist showed her ribs and a stomach that was rounded in rather than out. The gnaw of hunger was so common for Éponine that she often didn't notice it anymore, unless it got particularly bad. If she wouldn't admit to anyone else, she could admit to herself that she only stayed around Montparnasse for what he could give her. Sure, the stuff wasn't usually free, but it wasn't as expensive as it could be. If she hung around him long enough, he would give some food, but some clothes for her, and other necessities that Éponine really liked having. Most middle-class Americans underestimated how amazing a Big Mac could taste when it was the first thing eaten in about two or three days. Plus, she got clothing that was not from a thrift store. Of course, there was certain risk in allowing a hedonist like Montparnasse purchase clothes for her, as evidenced by her tight leather pants with studs. Still, they didn't have holes in them, so Éponine was happy. Éponine was fortunate that Montparnasse liked her so much, because no matter how much she pissed him off she knew she could always come back later and get what she wanted.

The whole rock-in-the-window move had been impulsive on Éponine's part, but she did impulsive things all the time. Most often it worked out well for her, but Montparnasse was probably not happen that she'd just smashed his window. All Éponine could think about was how happy she was that he was not happy. It was selfish and immature, but that was how she lived her life. She was selfish because it was the only way to live, and she was immature because nobody had ever taught her how not to be. Her mother had died too soon, and her father didn't care about things like that. She was doing her best to grow up, because she would need to be an adult if her plans for her future were to work out. She couldn't wait until she was able to provide for herself. She wouldn't have to stay on Montparnasse's good side or pay the price that she no longer wanted to pay. She would be in debt to nobody, and that would be the most amazing feeling. She still didn't know just how she was going to do it, but she'd figure something out. She had to.

It took her a second longer than it should have to respond to Jane. She hadn't used Veronique Balizard as her alias in some time, which was why she'd chosen it for the night. However, she wasn't used to being called that as much as she was used to being called Nina or one of her other aliases. Éponine was like a snake that way. She shed names and identities as easily as Jane shed clothing. When she was bored, she'd even thought up back stories for each of her characters. Veronique was the oldest of six children, the youngest of her siblings being eight months old. She worked cleaning rooms at the local motel, trying to help her mother earn a living, since her father had abandoned them. This was one of the few identities that Éponine could relate to the most. She looked up at Jane with her haunted eyes and smirked at the woman's query.

"Yeah, I'm quite all right," Éponine said with a smirk. "Ya see, my, er, boyfriend kicked me out becuz 'e is in trouble wiz ze cognes and I got mad at 'im. Now 'e 'as got a rock in 'is window. Let 'im sleep in ze cold for once." Éponine said the last sentence more to herself than to Jane, and she mumbled it under her breath. She didn't actually care if Jane heard her or not, but she her mind had started wandering once more, just as it often did. She didn't have a very acute attention span. She was distracted by a metallic smell in the air. It was so faint that there was no way Jane would be able to smell it. The saintly woman had probably never smelled enough blood to know its scent from a distance. Éponine was not so lucky. She knew what blood smelled like and she knew that this blood was fresh, and there was a lot of it.

Éponine held up a finger to her lips and gestured to Jane to stay put for a moment. She slithered along the wall to where a crevice of an alley opened into darkness. She peered around the corner, knife in hand. She saw a man looting the pockets of somebody he had just killed. Based on the breathing patterns, Éponine knew it was Smythe. She had known the fellow was no good! She was just thankful that it hadn't been her neck that he'd sliced. Holding her knife at the ready, she placed her free hand on Smythe's shoulder. "You know, if 'e's bad enough zat ya could sneak up be'ind 'im, 'e probably don't 'ave anyzing good in 'is pockets," she said in a low voice so that Jane wouldn't be able to hear her. What she said was true, unless the thug had been very lucky. There was no way he could be a good mugger if he hadn't been able to tell that there was someone behind him. "Ain't got any blood on ya, 'ave ya? I don't zink Miss Jane would be too pleased ta see zat," she said. She was quite certain that Jane didn't really know the kind of people she was helping, and she might withdraw her help if she found out. Éponine had never killed anybody, but she'd done her fair share of stealing and other small crimes. She didn't want this pathetic excuse for a man screwing up her shot at a warm supper.

[/blockquote]

[JANE EYRE]

"Yeah, I'm quite all right," Éponine said with a smirk. "Ya see, my, er, boyfriend kicked me out becuz 'e is in trouble wiz ze cognes and I got mad at 'im. Now 'e 'as got a rock in 'is window. Let 'im sleep in ze cold for once."

Jane heard every word Vera had said but chose not to comment on the second half. The first half, though, grabbed her attention. "The cognes...police right? I apologize, it's been quite a while since I've had the chance to converse in French and I fear I may have forgotten a little," Jane gave a smile in apology and looked ahead. The man she was trying to help was rummaging through another man's pockets.

Jane's face burnt with shame and anger, but not at him. It was at the society that allowed him to exist without trying to help him at all. "Smythe," Jane called out, her tone neutral. It was a terrible thing that he was to steal for his survival. It pained Jane to see it and it pained her even more to know that she couldn't help. "It's rather cold out, don't you agree? Let's move it along, shall we,"