"What? I am a vampire so I cannot like a flower? Pah!" Eponine scowls. She's not going to answer Girl's other question: as if she is going to confess to a crime just like that.

"Now, I should move, wolf. You ain't where you are supposed to be, and neither am I, so I suppose it means no one would care if it came to it, you know?" Eponine tries to look tough, sound like she means business, but quite honestly, she doesn't see Girl as a remote threat. She swaps the flowers from one hand to the other, and wipes her muddy fingers on her ripped jeans, before doing the same with the other hand. Mostly clean, nobody could swear that she had just wrecked the pub's display.