Eponine (
daughterofawolf) wrote2018-03-26 09:30 pm
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Eponine knows Bev's stayed with this Hopper man before; she knows a little about him from her and from asking around. What he looks like. That he had a child, maybe, or took care of one; that he was a Sheriff, back home, a sort of head of police -- not a trait that inherently makes him more trustworthy, in Eponine's mind -- that there were some strange things that happened where he was from. Just murmurs.
She knows that Beverly likes him, that she trusts him after all that's gone on in the house, after all that's happened to her. And that speaks worlds. It should be enough, too, but Eponine is older than Bev is, and she fancies herself more experienced in worldly things. For all that she's willing to take advantage of men's hospitality when it suits her, she can't help feeling disquieted about the whole thing, having no eyes on the situation. Men, in her experience, are never wholly selfless. At the Home, at least, they were all together, whatever might happen. She can't begrudge Bev for finding somewhere better to stay, but it means another thing to ponder when she wakes from a nightmare and can't sleep again.
More than she'd like, really. She shouldn't worry about people. It's a liability. But here she is, and Bev is her best friend here, a bit like family whether she likes it or not.
She snoops for only a little before throwing the idea to the wind. A few days in, she walks right up and knocks on the door, bold. If she wants to come spend time with her friend, a girl can't be blamed for that.
She knows that Beverly likes him, that she trusts him after all that's gone on in the house, after all that's happened to her. And that speaks worlds. It should be enough, too, but Eponine is older than Bev is, and she fancies herself more experienced in worldly things. For all that she's willing to take advantage of men's hospitality when it suits her, she can't help feeling disquieted about the whole thing, having no eyes on the situation. Men, in her experience, are never wholly selfless. At the Home, at least, they were all together, whatever might happen. She can't begrudge Bev for finding somewhere better to stay, but it means another thing to ponder when she wakes from a nightmare and can't sleep again.
More than she'd like, really. She shouldn't worry about people. It's a liability. But here she is, and Bev is her best friend here, a bit like family whether she likes it or not.
She snoops for only a little before throwing the idea to the wind. A few days in, she walks right up and knocks on the door, bold. If she wants to come spend time with her friend, a girl can't be blamed for that.
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"Yeah, just a sec," he calls, because his hands are sticky and he has to double back and head into the kitchen again to grab a towel, wiping his fingers hastily.
When he opens the door and finds a teenage girl on the other side, he pushes it wider to let her in. Kids in this place aren't as trusting as they were in Hawkins, so he doesn't expect her to just hop on in, but if she's here because she's friends with Beverly, it'd be nice if she didn't think him a complete ass right off the bat.
"Here to see Beverly?" he asks. "I was just making some lunch."
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Here, though, that won't be the case. She likes it here, perhaps a little more than she intended to let herself when she'll be stuck in the Home for years yet. Even ignoring how fucked everything has been there, and that there are a couple of people she feels bad leaving, it's nice to have a little more freedom, a little more privacy, a chance to have what she imagines is something closer to normal.
When Hopper opens the door and asks whoever's there if they're here to see her, Beverly jumps to her feet, a small smile playing at one corner of her mouth. If he has to ask, then it seems likely, and that's kind of a thrill in its own right. After the question, it isn't much of a surprise to see Eponine there — she'd have guessed it would be her or Eddie — but she's pleased even so. "Hey," she says. "I didn't know you were stopping by."
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Monsieur Hopper, as she's starting to think of him, is so unflappable in the face of a teenager at his door, immediately widening the door, that she's almost taken off her guard, a dozen explanation unraveling before they're woven at all.
She smiles, bemused, and realizes her stomach's growling a bit at the mention of lunch. She hasn't wanted to eat much, in the Home, with the bugs and moldy food, and nightmares that put her off eating at all. And she's so used to going without that she saves her lunch money most times to have for spending. "Yes, I --"
Eponine grins and steps in, a bit half pleased at Beverly's smile. "I didn't know either," she admits. She can't admit out loud that she was worried, not in front of M. Hopper, but she can admit it wasn't much of a plan. "But I was around, and I thought you must be bored to death without a million girls in your business every moment," she adds with a smirk.
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He flashes a grin at Beverly as he moves past her again, heading back into the kitchen. While he doubts Beverly completely bored, he also knows he's not going to be as entertaining to her as her friends are going to be and he's happy he can let her have them over if she wants. It had never stopped feeling shitty, telling Eleven she couldn't see anyone but him.
"I'll put together another sandwich," he calls back to them. "And I've got some carrots cut up and there's cake for dessert." It's a crappy freezer cake, but he figures they won't mind.
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It's strange, though not at all in a bad way, for Eponine to be here now. Maybe she should have invited her over sooner. The truth of the matter is, though, that Beverly isn't used to having friends, or to staying somewhere that it would be alright for her to have people around at all. Hopper doesn't seem fazed, though, and she's more than a little pleased, perhaps even relieved, for that to be the case.
"I don't think anything is as entertaining as having a million girls in your business all the time," she replies, clearly teasing, shooting Hopper a quick, grateful smile before she ushers Eponine over towards the couch with her. "I mean, no privacy ever? Hard to beat that, right?"
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It's almost too nice, but if that's suspect, it's at least in a very different way than she'd been afraid of.
She's glad when Beverly teases back, as she'd been completely sarcastic. "I know I'll never get tired of it," she drawls and grins, following her to the couch. "New ones every day, too. Were you there when Cosette arrived? I can't remember."
"Do you have cake all the time?" she whispers, an aside, to Beverly, grinning. "No wonder you moved in here. I'm going to camp out."
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The sandwiches don't look like much, but he slaps another one together and figures they're better than nothing. The carrots are just kind of shoved haphazardly into a bowl, he doesn't know a thing about presentation and probably figures they don't care much either.
"C'mon, table," he says, nodding toward the little kitchen table he's got. Normally he doesn't mind eating in front of the TV, sitting on the couch, but when Beverly stays over, he figures he's got to have some semblance of rules. It's different than it was with Eleven, he doesn't have to outline rules to save her life, but if she's staying here, she's not going to be running wild all over the place either.
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Taking a seat, she whispers back, grinning as she does, "Maybe not all the time, but a hell of a lot more than I'm used to." Just the fact of someone else making her meals at all is unexpectedly nice. There are people in the Home who do that, too, of course, but she hasn't trusted the food there for a while; back home, she made nearly all of her own meals. This is something different than the meals the staff prepares, anyway. That's their job; this is someone going out of their way for her.
The more time she spends here, she finds, the harder it is to get herself to leave.
"Thanks for getting lunch," she says, warm, because it feels right.
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She grins back at that. She hasn't been around them long enough to make a total decision, but Beverly is smiling and relaxed, and she isn't acting as though kindness is contingent on her good behavior or right words. Eponine watches the room with interest, taking in the little knick-knacks, the way M. Hopper moves, the things at the table.
He puts down sandwiches and carrots, and Eponine nearly goes straight for it before remembering herself. "Yes, thank you," she agrees, brushing up her manners. "You didn't have to make me anything."
She takes a carrot even as it's said, though.
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"Y'know, I didn't even catch your name when you came in," he admits before taking a bit of his sandwich. "I figure you already know who I am."
She's here, after all. She'd known Beverly was staying here. Given what he knows about kids and the way they look out for each other, chances are she's here to check up on the situation.
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For a while, she'd thought she and Eddie would stick together and that would be that, the two of them the only members of the Losers Club here. She's never really been close to other girls — or anyone, before last summer, but the point remains the same then. Eponine has changed that.
"So, wait, you and Cosette know each other, but she doesn't... know that she knows you? That's got to be weird."
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There's much that people do to put others in their debt. This doesn't seem like one of those times.
"Oh!" she exclaims, halfway into a greedy bite of gloriously un-spoilt sandwich, when he points out that he doesn't know her, but then Beverly's properly introducing her, and Eponine hastens to chew and swallow.
"Monsieur Hopper," she says and holds out a hand to shake his, properly like an adult. "Beverly has only said good things," she adds, perhaps unnecessarily, but it's one of those things that you say when you meet someone, she thinks.
She chuckles a little, turning to Bev. "And - yes. Sort of. We were children together, back at home. My parents ...cared for her for a bit while her mother worked." Her eyes still on Bev's for a moment, trusting her both to understand the situation and that Hopper doesn't have to know what that means. "But then she was taken in by a rich man," she goes on, "who knew her mother somehow. I don't remember exactly, we were very young, and she younger than I, so I suppose it makes sense she doesn't know my face. But I knew her, at once. I haven't told her any of it."
Cosette had been so fond and thankful to have another French girl to speak to, and Eponine was so much someone else here; she didn't have to be a Thenardier except by name. Why ruin it?
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And it's funny, the idea of Beverly having said anything about him at all, but he's sure, given a little bit of time, she'll find something negative to say about him. If she stays here for any length of time, he's going to end up pissing her off eventually. It's just inevitable.
"Not like you're gonna tell me any of the bad things," he says with a laugh. He doesn't really follow the rest of what they're saying, most of it the sort of talk that's specific to both teen girls and Darrow.
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"What's there to complain about?" she asks instead, smiling brightly as she does. "There's no blood in the showers, there's cake for dessert, we go bowling sometimes..." She casts a quick look at Eponine, one that's likewise meant to say what she can't out loud. He doesn't come into her room at night; he doesn't look at her like he can barely keep her hands off her and has no intention of doing so. She feels safe. That doesn't come easily.
She makes a mental note to ask more about this connection with Cosette later, though she thinks she's picking up on the implications there, given what the two of them know about each other's lives.
"Not that blood showers are a very high bar to pass, but, you know."
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She takes another, hungry bite of her sandwich, much easier to eat now that she feels more at ease about Beverly, while she talks, and takes a drink, chuckling. "No blood in the showers," she ticks off on her fingers, "no bugs, no haunted basement...And a room to yourself, even! I think you might have work on your hands if you were to try and make Bev complain, Monsieur Hopper. The Children's Home needs some upkeep." She says it cheerily as though that's all it needs. If Beverly's mentioned the blood in the showers, then Hopper is trustworthy with the odd things, too, but he might not be altogether on board with Marcus' idea that someone is possessed, for instance, and she doesn't want herself or Bev put in the position of a safe adult thinking she's crazy.
"What's bowling?" she asks, then, tipping her head.
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"It's a game," he says. "A sport? You take a heavy ball and roll it down this long wooden lane and knock a bunch of pins down at the end of it."
Two months ago he would have thought it was weird to have to explain bowling to someone, even with all the shit he's seen and done, but now it doesn't seem like such an odd thing.
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It's such a strange childish thing to be invited to play a game with someone, and yet very much a novelty. Much less go to spend time with someone and their -- well, guardian, of sorts -- that's meant for nothing but fun. "I'd like to play, if I might," she says, tentatively, oddly unsure if she'll be welcome to.
"Though," she warns, more self-assured, "I can be competitive."
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He likes Eponine and he can see why Beverly likes her, too. It's pretty weird, the way he's got this knack for finding himself around girls of this age who are both self conscious and so damn strong all at once. Maybe he doesn't know Eponine all that well yet, but he's always had a good sense of people and he thinks Beverly, of everyone, would probably be drawn to other girls like that.
Eponine warns she can be competitive and Hopper shrugs as he takes a bite of a carrot. The grin he flashes Beverly is a little conspiratorial, but only so she knows he's only teasing. "That's fine, I need a little competition," he says. "I beat this one flat the first time we went."
Which is actually not true at all. He's not much of a bowler and the game had been pretty close.
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"Clearly," she adds, turning to Eponine, "competitive is not a problem."
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"Apparently not," Eponine says, and grins. "It's a challenge, then! I think you'll find yourself surprised, monsieur. I'm a quick learner. And Beverly and I, we make a good team, I think."
She smiles at Bev, conspiratorial.
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"I guess it can be," he decides with a shrug. "But if you two are gonna gang up on me, then I think I deserve to have a partner, too."
Maybe he can convinced Lucy to come with them. That seems a little like he's trying to make it a family affair, turn it into something more than it is. He likes Lucy, he just doesn't want to mess it up by putting too much pressure on her.
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To Eponine, she adds, "Oh, definitely a good team. They won't stand a chance."
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"That sounds like fun," she says; of course it would likely be more even to have one adult and one child per team, but she thinks it'll be more fun to play with Bev, especially as she doesn't even know who Hopper's intent on inviting.
"Who's the second on the adult team?" she asks as innocently as she might. Eponine's never been good at repressing her own curiosity, and if she can't suss out the information on her own, she might as well ask.
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Eponine just asks, though, and he finds himself momentarily stumped.
"Uh... Lucy," he says. "That's her name. She's a, uh, a friend."
He's not sure what else to call her. They've been on a few dates and Lucy has seen him at his absolute worst and she still seems to like him, although he doesn't know why. All of that doesn't mean he can call her anything other than a friend, though. He doesn't want to presume and it's not like he's good at relationships either.
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The last is something of a dig at Hopper, but she accompanies it with a bright smile, struck again by how strange this is. Her dad would never have taken her bowling, or encouraged her to bring a friend, or anything like that. Of course she would wind up wanting to spend whatever time here she can.
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She laughs, though, at Bev's slight tease. "Well, you have excellent taste in people," she says, airily, both a joke about herself and a bit of warmth toward Hopper and how nice he's been, "so I want to meet her too, now."
Eponine catches herself nearly about to clean up a stray smear of peanut butter -- the only remnant of food -- from the plate with one finger, and reminds herself that licking the plate clean might be sensible, but it's not polite and she doesn't want to give a bad impression. She wipes her hands neatly with a napkin and glances back between Hopper and Beverly. "What does she do?"