Eponine steps closer, automatically detaching the phone and slipping it up the sleeve of her oversized hoodie as she does.

"Why are you here? You ought not be here on a night? Don't you know it's when the wicked come out, Ma'mzelle?" She hugs her arms about her thin frame, studying the girl before her. She's as pale as Eponine herself, almost vampiric looking. But this girl is no vampire. There is no stench of death from her.

"I should go, Ma'mzelle, for you don't want trouble tonight."

Eponine daren't go closer. The hunger that always tickles her belly is already flaring. She daren't tempt herself any more.