"I can hear you. I can smell your breath, Miss. It's sweet. You're a breather."

There's not much else to say. Eponine watches balefully as Wednesday charges her phone. She slides down the glass of the bus shelter until she's crouched on the floor looking up at Wednesday. She folds her arms over her chest, then changes her mind. She rummages through her pockets for a cigarette and a lighter, and lights up.