Eponine cackles again. "Will you, Sir? And have the French covens to deal with? Sir, you think you are all powerful, but no. They are worse than you can imagine, and you kill me, Sir, and they will come. It will be war. Imagine, over me!" She seems almost gleeful about the idea, and indeed she is. Imagine being so important! She smiles, and it's hard now. "My Master says to London, and to London I must stay. But Sir..." She pushes her hair back from her face and lowers her voice, a cheap imitation of seduction. "There are deals I can make you. Fae blood for good behaviour. A vial a day. What do you say?"