daughterofawolf | (no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's fun," Beverly says with a grin of her own. "You should come sometime. That would be okay, right?" The way she asks, it's clear that she doesn't think there's any reason for it not to be, but it's probably best to ask anyway. She's a guest here, technically, no matter how often she may stay here, and she doesn't want to overextend her welcome or risk reading too far into — well, anything. But Hopper has taken well enough to an unexpected guest now, and she likes the idea of the people she's become close to getting along. Hopper, Eponine, Eddie, they've all made all the difference in the world for her as far as her being here is concerned. "I mean, the most you get out of it is bragging rights, but that's the same with any game. Sport. Whichever."

"Oh!" she says. "I think there is a game like that where I'm from. It's just called boules - I guess it would be balls. You aren't knocking down the pins, though, you try to roll it close to another ball." She's never played. It doesn't work well in the city, where it's so close, and there's work to be done.

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."

"Yeah, of course," Hopper says to Beverly's question, even though he's sure she already knows the answer. "If I can kick one girl's ass, I bet I can kick two."

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.

"You did not," Beverly protests, though she's laughing as she does. It was a close game, which she'd appreciated, in a weird sort of way; it made it seem all the more like he wasn't just trying to humor her by taking her to play the way some people might have. She feels like that at the Home frequently. Granted, she can't blame the staff there for it when they're just people doing jobs, but it's just one more reason to like staying here. She's not an obligation. Hopper wouldn't let her stay here with increasing frequency if he didn't want her here.

"Clearly," she adds, turning to Eponine, "competitive is not a problem."

Eponine laughs out loud at that, and at the little argument. For some reason, it's sort of nice for a man to brag about being able to beat her, as unexpected as it is: it makes her feel as though she's not considered fragile for being a girl or young or both.

"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.

"Hey, bowling isn't a team sport," Hopper protests, then considers that for a second, because he's pretty sure he's seen people wearing matching shirts when they go. He's not sure how that works, but he supposes it actually has to be possible.

"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.

"I think that sounds fair," Beverly says, shooting Hopper a broad, teasing grin that's meant to say that she knows exactly whom he's thinking of. She's fine with that, too. She's met Lucy, she liked Lucy, and she would hope that the same is true in turn. Regardless, it's clear that Lucy means something to Hopper, and if she's going to continue staying here the way she has been, it's something that's bound to come up eventually. So far, it seems worth encouraging. "We could do two against two? Kids against adults?"

To Eponine, she adds, "Oh, definitely a good team. They won't stand a chance."

There's a tease to Beverly's smile that says she knows who M. Hopper has in mind, and Eponine looks between the two of them, her smile widening in curiousity.

"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.

This he'd never counted on. Eleven wouldn't have known to ask him, would probably never think to question how he thinks of Joyce and he'd been happy with that. Beverly seems to just leave it alone, too, but she's met Lucy, so it might have something to do with that.

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.

"She's nice," Beverly promises, cutting in quickly. There's still a slight teasing lilt in her voice, but she isn't going to outright say that it's anything more than it actually might be. Even so, until expressly told not to, she sees no reason not to be a little encouraging. Hopper's the one who first seemed interested in including Lucy, so she may as well carefully push it just a bit and see where it goes. There's no harm in it. "I've met her. It'll be fun. And, hey, that might make the teams more even, too."

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.

Eponine hadn't meant to be overt about asking after Monsieur Hopper's romantic situation -- after all, she and Beverly aren't lovers and they make a team! -- but she can tell, from his frazzled response, that he isn't sure what to call this Lucy, either.

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?"