undergrounds | Crime and Questioning

It's been a while since Eponine's seen Cesare, but not much has really changed for her. She looks as rough as ever: her olive pallor has yellowed somewhat, and there are bruises on her skin and she has a busted lip from where she has been battered at some point. Dark circles beneath her eyes, sunken cheeks indicate her continued use of fae blood. And the scowl on her face should indicate to Cesare that she knows exactly why she has been ordered to his offices.

Inside, Eponine's scared. She's broken one of the most strict of all vampire laws, to not kill. The last time she had even tried, Joss had slammed her against the wall and held a stake to her throat. It had burned so much - the pain had been as intense as Montparnasse had ever tried. If that had come from Joss for an attempt, what would she receive from the president for actual murder?

On the outside, though, Eponine feigned indifference. She had no intention of letting Cesare know she was worried. She hammered on the door, and then kicked it when she was left waiting.

"You want me or not, Monsieur? I have not all night. There are things I have to do too, you know?"

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Cesare is sitting at his office, the one hidden in the back of a dental practice, so that their meeting remains a secret. He has no interest in being caught with her. Whether she realises it yet or not, Cesare meeting her is an act of mercy. He's trying to solve it quietly, rather than having a public trial that will undoubtedly result in death. He is putting his presidency on the line for her here.

He works at his papers for a moment longer, writing notes, an undoubted power play, before finally replying.

"And what is it exactly that you've been up to, Eponine? Please, educate me."

She fidgets as she stands in front of him. She's never been in a dental practise before. The office is just an office, but even still, it makes her gums hurt. She hates waiting, and she shifts her weight, folds her arms defensively across her stomach.

"Nothing. Nought from the usual. Monsieur." It's added reluctantly, sarcastically.

She bites her bust lip and tries to hide the wince that follows. Truth be told, her whole body aches: the gang are not sadistic like Joss, but they are rough nonetheless.

Eponine breathes a laugh through her nose, and shakes her head. "You would not know the vampire what did this to me. He is one of them disgusting men, not for a fine gentleman like you. Scum, he is. Nowt to worry about though. I can look after him."

"With the greatest of respect, I don't give the slightest fuck about who roughed you up," he replies with a curt smile. "I am more concerned about how you're leaving others." As in dead. Ugh. It's always the addicts who act out, isn't it?

"Tell me: what is your excuse this time?" Addicts always have the most outlandish of excuses. They tell their lies with such sincerity though. Really, they should be winning awards for the acting.

"No..." Eponine's smile fades. "I don't suppose you would. Why should such a great man care about such women as me?" She laughs a hollow chuckle.

"But an excuse, M'sieur? For what? I were honest. I picked a few pockets and that, but he kept raising the price. I told him I had no more." She shrugs. "He did not like honesty. Next time, I will lie. I have never seen the point in a thrashing. It hurts me, it tires him... it is stupid. I will do what I can to avoid it."

She stops suddenly, distracted. Her bleary eyes are fixed on a fancy fountain pen on Ces's desk. "That's pretty. That pen. Would I to have such a pen. My Pa had nice ones when I was a child. That was a long time ago now. I don't think they were as nice as that, but then, he were never so rich as you. Say -" But she thinks better of asking for money or a pen or whatever else was in her head, and instead, she shakes it and falls silent.

"Why am I here? I have had to run from Monsieur Joss and my new friends to keep this secret." She asks resentfully.

Eponine is rambling, the way a pickpocket tells tall tales and touches you all over to distract you from the fact that their hand is on your watch. Cesare has seen this before and has no interest in it.

"How many people in London have you killed, Eponine? I am not looking for any stories or explanations, just one short number." He has no interest in wasting more time with her. She has wasted plenty already. Little does he know that soon enough he will more than understand her desperate thirst for fae blood.

"Killed?" She blinks, surprise in her voice. "I don't know." She shakes her head. "One, two perhaps. Not many have died. I don't know. Some fae but who cares for them? I have paid for my drink. I do not have enough to finish them, not unless they make me a present of it all."

Occasionally, the gang have let her drink beyond her time. It's not often, but it's an easy solution if they want her completely out of it.

"I don't know if they die later, after me. Don't know. I don't want to know. It's not nice to be a murderer, you know?"

"You're right about that," Cesare responds with an exasperated sigh. He moves to stand and perches on the edge of his desk, taking a look at her.

"Do you know what would be right for me to do? I should be making an example of you, put you on trial, show that I do not play favourites. When you commit a crime, you accept the consequences." Cesare Borgia punishing his own? The press would be incredible.

"What? So you will lock me up?" Eponine shrugs. "I have been put in a prison before. I have shared a cell with murderers and thieves and prostitutes and rats. They fed us the bodies of them what were executed. I am not afraid. Your jail cannot be so bad as that."

She scowls though. "You will have to find me first though. I am better for hiding than you."

"The punishment is worse than mere prison, I am afraid." He frowns at her. He knew she would react poorly to his statement and try and disagree. Who wouldn't? But it still bothers him. He doesn't like her attitude.

"And you are in my office. If I wish, you won't even manage to leave this room. I doubt you can hide very well from me just in here."

"So what? You will murder the man I love? You will beat me bloody? HA -" She chuckles suddenly, though there is no mirth in her laughter.

"No. No, I know what you mean to do. You will have me killed. The guillotine? But too slow? Hanging? Ha - he is not a spectacle any more. Burn me, p'raps, though I ain't a witch. I hope the guillotine. Quick. It would be so lovely to sleep, you know?" She moves right up to his desk, and lays her hands on the smooth wood.

"You do not like me, Sir, and that's okay, but if you are to kill me, will you make it quick? Only, I don't want to be afraid in the end. It will be bad enough in hell, no?"

Cesare has no time for Eponine's fanfare and storytelling.

"You're being macabre," he says with an eye roll. "I don't care for it. I suggest you stop, or it's going to make things a lot harder for you." It's tiring and frustrating, and when he gets frustrated it's pretty bad for everyone involved.

"You will learn how to behave or I will send you back to wherever you came from, or worse. Is that clear?"

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?"

"Oh, you mean Claquesous?" Cesare responds casually. "Or Montparnasse?" He knows them, trying to make a point. Of course he does. It's his job to keep a tab on all the movers and shakers in the area and that includes France.

"And that's not how it works. How about you behave yourself, manage to survive the next couple of weeks, and I'll consider rewards?" If there's one thing he's learned over the years it's not to give into addicts so easily when there's bargaining to be done.

Eponine's mouth tightens into a straight line as she's confronted with the names of the Patron Minette. Her eyes narrow and she glares at Cesare.
"I told you. 'Parnasse is my sire." So she is important. So there.

She chews on her lips. There's not a chance in hell she's promising anything.
"Can I go now, Sir?" The 'sir' is definitely forced.

Crime and Questioning

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