undergrounds | Shop till you Drop. (Closed to Joss)

Shop till you Drop. (Closed to Joss)

When Joss eventually opened his front door to Eponine, she had pushed impatiently past him to look for the t-shirts he had promised her.

"Where are they? You promised." She barks at him. Her own, tattier than ever thanks to Joss trying to murder her, needs replacing. She lets herself into his living room, and makes a beeline for the shopping bags by the sofa. She pulls out a few tops, but her jubilant smile quite quickly becomes a frown.

Eponine looks from one pink, frilly shirt to an overly baggy mustard number to a flowery, frilled t-shirt with little cap sleeves. The frown on her face turns into a scowl and she rounds on Joss, angry all of a sudden.

"You buy for a grandma? I am not wearing this rubbish. They're disgusting. For old women."
They do not go, at all, with Eponine's grunge look. "I am not wearing these. And you owe me a shirt for nearly killing me. You lose me a whole night of coin, a whole night of food, and for this? No, M'sieur. I do not accept. I shall have a proper shirt I might wear, if you please."

She's getting a decent outfit out of Joss even if it means dragging him to the shops herself.

"You owe me. You owe me proper clothes," she whines.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Joscelin isn't used to being bossed around like this, especially not by someone he had tried to kill not twenty-four hours before. He scowls at her as she rejects all of the shirts a shop assistant at Marks and Spencer had helped him pick out when he said he was buying a birthday present for his mother. "Don't get it dirty," he snaps. If she doesn't want it he'll return the lot.

"You--shower, right now. And no more of this sleeping in a gutter business. I've got you a hotel room."

None of the shops are open this late, so they'll have to wait until tomorrow.

"It wasn't such a choice to sleep in a gutter, your highness." Eponine's voice drips with contempt. "You try to murder me. My heart is on fire. My body - and now you whine I sleep in a bin? That is you what makes me sleep in the rubbish. I do not want to do such a thing."

Her hands go to her hair: it itches like crazy most of the time. "So you ain't to be ordering me so. It is not my fault I could not walk all the way back to my rooms." Rooms is a bit grandiose really. 'Grave' might be more accurate.

Joscelin watches her scratch her scalp with a mixture of horror and disgust. Does she have lice? Has she brought vermin into his home?

"If I'd been trying to murder you, you wouldn't be standing here right now. Trust me." He had displayed remarkable self control last night, he thinks. Now that self control is fading fast. What has he gotten himself into? No intelligence is worth the cost of this particular spy.

"Bathe. Please. You stink of filth."

Lets just say that Eponine has lots of little friends on her head. And yes, Joss might need to invest in an electric comb and some smelly shampoo.

With a glower at Joss, Eponine stomps to his bathroom. She can't argue with the fact that she stinks. She's not had a shower since she was last at Joss's house, and the hot water and the perfumey shampoos and nicely scented body washes are tempting.

She spends ages in the shower: her long, thick hair takes ages to wash. Having nothing else to put on, though, she ends up in her ripped t-shirt and dirty skirt once more. Eponine takes the liberty of borrowing Joss's hairbrush: it's returned full of black hair and several bristles short. She plaits her hair, and ends up ripping off the hem of her t-shirt to tie the ends.

Clean, if not suitably dressed, she goes to find Joss.

"There, Sir. You are satisfied with me now?"

"Not particularly, but it will do." While she was in the shower, he'd ordered a delousing kit off Amazon, to be delivered next day. And also lots of bleach for his bathroom.

"Come. We're going to your new room."

It's a middling business hotel near his flat. Nothing special, really quite basic, but he's paid through the end of next month in advance.

When they get there, Eponine is shocked. She had expected a joke, not a proper room all to herself with a bed and a television and a bath.
"Is this really for me?" She turns to Joss. "But why? You call me names and that. You cannot give me a room and then call me a whore and that. It doesn't make sense. I've got no money for you. I have nothing to sell for it."

Joscelin sighs. "I'm not interested in your money, such that it is. I've got plenty of my own. What I am interested in is any information you can provide me." He gestures vaguely at himself, at his skinny child's body. "I stand out in a crowd. You can disappear. I need to know what's happening in the places I can't reach." If Jean-Claude's not going to do the spy work, he is. Joscelin isn't content just being a loyal lieutenant anymore. He'll never betray Jean-Claude, never try to take his position, but he needs to make sure that no one else tries to. Particularly Cesare Borgia. His sometimes-friend is getting far too powerful far too quickly for his tastes.

"I just need your ears and your brain, if you have one."

"I have a brain," Eponine sighs.

She perches on the edge of the bed, and runs her hand over the soft bedclothes. It's so lovely. It's the nicest place she''s ever stayed in. But Joss's proposal reminds her of the old days, when she was still alive.

"I have always been the one to watch. I were the watch for the gang when I were alive, and long when I were a vampire too. I took messages for my Pa and the gang. I do whatever the men want and they give me what my Pa asks for. It isn't nice work, you know..." She smooths over her t-shirt on her hollow stomach. Being asked to watch again brings a funny, twisting feeling to her stomach. It makes her feel almost homesick, almost nervous to do it again. Still, despite her reluctance, she sighs.
"I am clever. I can find anything you like. People don't notice the beggars and that, do they?" She toys with the end of her plait.

"What if I don't want to?" she asks after a moment of silence. She thinks she knows the answer.

"If you don't want to, you're welcome to go. I'll get my money back from the hotel and you can go back to sleeping with rats and roaches. You also won't get this." Joss holds up a bag of blood, freshly donated. Type AB positive, though that doesn't matter as much. It's enough to last for days if she doesn't get greedy. "I'm a lot of things, but one thing I never do is go back on my word. If you work for me, you will not go hungry. And if you want to pick out new clothes, I will pay for them. My only requirement is that you are punctual, precise, and tidy." He wrinkles his nose at her tattered appearance. It simply will not do.

"And sober. You like fae blood, correct?" He's been around long enough to know the signs of addiction. "When was your last hit?"

That blood. She's salivating at the very sight of it.

She closes her eyes. It's a big offer, but can she do it? Can she willingly put herself under a sadistic master?

Her eyes open again when he mentions being sober. She bites her chapped lip, and unconsciously traces one of the dark circles beneath her eyes with her finger.

"It were... maybe two days ago," she admits reluctantly. "I need it though. I've had some vodka and that, but it's not as good. I need..." She'd been hoping he hadn't noticed her shakes.

"You need to be clear headed to do this job," he says, cutting her off entirely. "Not shaking and sick and pathetic. If you take this blood, you agree to get clean. Understood?"

"But -"

It doesn't matter, does it? She can tell Joss whatever he needs to hear. Eponine already has contacts with some of the most notorious vampire gangs in London; friends might be too strong a word to describe her connection to them. They hit her up, and she does whatever they want in return. They'll keep her hooked up, keep the needles coming to her.

She sighs. "Fine." She snatches at the blood.

Joscelin knows that as soon as he leaves she'll probably go out and get high. But he has her now. As long as she doesn't do it around him and can at least pretend to keep it together, she'll be useful to him.

He hands over the blood, and also a small shopping bag that he'd brought with him to the hotel. Inside is an older model iPhone, the cheapest he could find. His number is already pre-programmed into it. "I'll know if you sell this for fae blood, by the way. I've got it tracked."

He moves towards the door. "I'm leaving now. I'll be back tomorrow right at sundown. Be ready."

Her eyes open wide.

A phone? A smile starts spreading over her face. "For me? Really?" The other phone she'd stolen from that fae had proved useless after the first day: it was completely locked. She'd sold it for fae blood then. But this one...

"Does it have music on? Will you put me some on, Sir? Oh! I have always wanted my own music, my own phone."

She falls backwards on the bed, hugging the phone to her chest. She finds that tears prick her eyes, and despite blinking, they begin to fall. There's too much. He's too nice. Never, ever has anyone ever given her even half of what Joss has, not even her own parents.

When she begins to laugh, though, it's slightly hysterical. And she doesn't stop until long after he's left.

The next day at sundown, Eponine's ready and waiting for Joss. She's remarkably clean too: she's soaked in the bath for hours, and even attempted to wash her clothes in it too. They're still a bit damp, but it doesn't really matter. The shakes are bad though, her face more drawn than ever. She's going to have to get a hit tonight.

"Sir? Joscelin?" She asks when someone knocks on the door. "Is it you?"

Ew, she's getting all misty on him. He doesn't like it when women get misty. Joscelin awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. "If you want music, you can pay for it. I'll show you how." Maybe this is a way to keep her under his thumb: giving her a Spotify account of her very own.

The next evening he's at her door right as the sun goes down, as soon as its safe for vampires without Daylight rings to be outside. There's a rusty glow on the western horizon, but not enough to endanger his new underling. The days are getting shorter, yes, but not short enough for them to dawdle around before the shops close.

"We need to move. I hope you're ready."

"I'm ready."

She opens the door and squeezes out. Joss doesn't need to see her room and the mess it's in.

"Where are we going?" She's already walking. The sooner this is done, the sooner she can get her fix sorted.

"Anywhere you'd like that's less than fifteen minutes away," Joscelin sighs, looking at his watch. They're against the clock here, and it hasn't escaped his notice that Eponine looks even worse than she had yesterday. The sooner they get this over with, the better.

"Fifteen minutes?" Eponine thinks, even as she takes the stairs a couple at a time. She breaks into another grin though as she remembers the place close by. She's stood a couple of nights with her hands pressed against the windows, just drooling over the clothes at the window.

She recites the address quickly to Joss, and, as soon as she's out of the hotel, sets off at a run. Eponine runs a lot, dodging through the crowds jostling on their evening commute, until she arrives at the top of the street where the boutique is.

She hopes Joss has kept up.

"Come on, come on!" she calls. "It's over here!" She points at a shabby looking boutique, badly in need of a touch up on it's teal paint, just down the street. "Come on!" She sounds like a child.

"Here?"

Joscelin can run too, but his legs are much shorter than Eponine's. It takes him longer to get places. He's glad that she told him the address ahead of time because he lost her in the crowd a few times as she darted between people.

He looks unconvinced as they enter the store. It's as shabby and unkempt as Eponine herself is, so it's probably not a surprise that she'd be drawn to it. There's some designer resale here, but it's all decidedly too punk rock for his tastes.

Eponine doesn't need telling twice. She pushes the shop door almost cautiously and heads in. Once inside though, she just stands and looks, taking it all in.

It is obviously not Eponine's first time in a shop, but it is her first time in a shop spending someone else's money, and she doesn't know where to look first. Finally, she settles on a rack full of different t-shirts, and she begins to shuffle through them, looking for one small enough to accommodate her skeletal frame without drowning her.
Finally, she finds a design she likes. It's an interesting design, but Eponine likes it.

"Joscelin?" she calls. "You like? Do you think it'd fit?"

Joscelin shrugs. "It's ugly," he says, not sparing Eponine's feelings any. "What about something like this?" He holds up a simple black dress off the sale rack. It's as inoffensive to his particular tastes as he can find in a store like this.

"Oh." She bites her lip. She likes it, but Joss is paying. Reluctantly, she puts the top down.

"It's..." The dress is fine, but... "It is not something to wear on the street, is it? I will be so cold." Has he forgotten what she does half the time to get a bit of extra cash? There's no denying that dress would help her chances, but Eponine has also felt the stinging winter before now, and she has no intention of doing that again. "And I cannot run in such a long one

"This?" She holds up a corset dress. "I want this one. Always have I wanted a corset." She thinks it'll make her look so ladylike.

"I'll buy you a coat too," he points out. Of course he knows that it's getting colder. He's not stupid.

When Eponine holds up another dress he looks visibly confused. "How will that keep you any warmer than the other one? And why on earth would you want to wear your...undergarments on the outside?" Corsets are underwear, not outerwear. They belong to that shadowy realm of womenly items that make him uncomfortable.

"It is fashion now. You wear a bra. See?"
She's already pulled the dress on over her ripped jeans, and starts to pull her t-shirt off whilst clutching the top of the dress to her chest. Tatty bra straps are quite visible on her shoulders though.

"See?" She asks Joss. "Doesn't it look well? It is as strapless as the other, but it is short enough to run in as well?"

What a bonus. She had been looking for just one t-shirt, but if Joss felt like being generous, who would she be to stop him?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Joscelin grabs her and drags her behind a rack, where she won't attract so much attention. If he were capable of it he might be blushing, but instead all he feels is annoyance.

"Put your clothes back on. If you embarrass me again we will leave and you won't get anything. Understood?"

"I'm trying it on!" If Eponine were capable, her cheeks would be burning. But all she feels is sheer embarrassment. "I thought in a shop? I've tried clothes on before, you know?"

But she still pulls her t-shirt on, and sheepishly steps back out of the dress.

"I just wanted to see if it would fit me. But no... a top is fine."

She pulls a plain black t-shirt from the rack where they stand and holds it out to Joss. "This is enough. It don't matter if it's too big."

"Have you never heard of a fitting room?" Joscelin points to the sign over the curtained cubicle that says "fitting room."

"Just...pick two shirts and a jacket and we will leave."

No. No, she hadn't noticed a fitting room. Market stalls and charity shops generally didn't come with changing rooms.

It doesn't take long for Eponine to find a couple of tops, doubtlessly earning Joss's scorn, but she's pleased with her choice. She also finds the thickest coat she can, which she puts on as soon as the tag comes off. The total for the few garments rings to over two hundred pounds, and Eponine glances sideways at Joss. If the cashier thinks it's weird that a little kid is paying for a young woman's clothes, he doesn't say anything. Outside the shop, Eponine clutches the bag tightly, and almost hugs herself in the coat that she's still wearing.

"I swear, it is the nicest thing I have ever owned. But... in return... to spy? You really are crazy, aren't you?"

It's all too much. She needs fae blood, just so her brain can stop going into overdrive, trying to work out things she can't possibly know the answer to about Joss and his motives. About what Montparnasse would think of her clothes, or make her do with them.

She digs deep into her old jumper's pockets and pulls out a battered box of cigarettes and a lighter. "You want one?" She holds the box out to Joss. "It ain't fae, but it is summat to suck on."

Joscelin pays cssh for everything, casually doling out fifty pound notes like they're nothing. He doesn't comment on the cost or what she's picked out; he's too exasperated with her at this point not to say anything imprudent.

When she offers him the cigarettes, he just pushes them away. "I quit sixty years ago, so no." Not like either of them has to worry about cancer.

Eponine shrugs and lights up herself.

"Fine. You are straight laced, Joscelin. Not an inch of fun." She shakes her head and takes a deep drag. "Boring, boring."

She blows the smoke in his face.

"Thank you, though, for the clothes. Never have I spent so much on clothes in one go."

“Don’t mention it,” Joscelin replies crisply, wrinkling his nose in distaste as she blows smoke at him. Her breath stinks too. “Now, about the rest of our deal.”

Eponine sighs deeply. She had been hoping that Joss would forget about the deal - not that it seemed at all like him to forget about anything.

She takes a deep drag on her cigarette, and holds the smoke in her mouth for a moment.
"What about it?" She asks.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Shop till you Drop. (Closed to Joss)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject