It's not that she hates weddings. Nothing wrong with people settling down and celebrating their love. It's just that the people in question are currently near the top of her "people who need to stop" list, right underneath her parents - and the blonde's pretty close to earning the top spot. One more glimpse of puppy eyes and Eponine just might make a run for it. She's good at that after all. But really, out of all the women in Paris, Marius had to choose that. It figures.
In the distance, she can see her parents doing their usual thing, and she whispers a silent prayer of thanks to whatever's in the sky that she doesn't especially look like them. There's a bit of resemblance, yes, but only if one tries to find it. From a distance, she's just another young woman at a wedding reception, albeit a questionably dressed one. She feels awkward, out of place, and it's almost enough to make her forget that she's here under duress. If it had been anyone else, she would've told them where they could stick the idea of her turning up, but for him… oh, she's utterly hopeless.
She inches back against the wall on the far side of the room, away from most of the herd. Out of habit, she doesn't look to see if anyone's there, and her eyes remain focused on the floor. It's a pretty floor, she thinks. Maybe if she stares at it long enough, she'll fade into the wallpaper and be forgotten. But no, she thinks, there's no way she'll be that lucky.
"I do hope there's some fire in her."
She knows that voice. Blast, she knows that voice. One of the older boys her brother always follows around, the one that survived, the leader, the pretty one. Eponine looks up and, sure enough, she's right. Oh, as if this day couldn't get any worse. So much for that hope.
"She looks like an icicle," Eponine replies, making cautious eye contact with the boy. "No offenses meant to anyone, but he could've done better."
The boy glances at her and smiles, perhaps the first genuine smile she's received from anyone in a solid month. "Bad enough he found the need to settle down," Enjolras laughs. "If he had to, though… why her?"
Eponine rolls her eyes. "Because she's pretty, and men are shallow, and the pretty girls always get what they want in the end. The rest of us…"
"Have to fight," he interjects. "I understand. Although, between you and me, I'd much prefer character over beauty. Apparently our friend thinks differently."
A moment of recognition passes between the two, and it's a few moments more before she speaks again. "I suppose it's good there's only us two left to see it. The others…"
"Are no doubt enjoying themselves in the spectator halls of heaven." He pauses, smiling at her again. "As it is, perhaps we ought to enjoy it for them."
"I'd quite like that, monsieur."
"No, no formalities," he counters. "It's Enjolras. And you are?"
"Eponine." She looks around, noting that her family has apparently vanished. No doubt they've been kicked out, in that way that they always are. She takes it as a sign that she should make her exit before anyone makes a connection. "Please forgive me, but I must be on my way. Adieu, monsieur."
He watches her leave, noting how small she is, how unexpectedly graceful, how certain. He can't say for sure what the girl's problem is, but if he's right, Marius Pontmercy is idiot of the century. This, however, Enjolras keeps to himself. No need to pick fights right now… after all, it is a special occasion.