Eponine shrugs. She's not bothered. She's going to keep lighting up. It's not like it can kill her, is it?

She takes another drag on her cigarette and looks away, disinterested now. If it weren't for Jones and Denzel meeting her here within the next half hour, she would certainly have left by now. When she thinks Wednesday's not looking, she pulls out a small bottle of gin from her hoodie pocket and takes a swig of the alcohol straight. She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. It's not as good as fae for making Eponine forget the world, but it's better than nothing. She needs to be out of it at least a little before she meets the men anyway. Things are so much easier when she's too drunk to care what she's agreeing to.