Eponine staggers from the dungeons feeling slightly numb. It's been an age since she's been allowed out, been allowed to see anything except stone walls and iron doors without manacles and chains clasped at arm and leg. After a week in the dim light of the dungeons, the sunlight is bright and she screws her eyes against it.
The silence is deafening. After Jon had been taken from the dungeon, there had been screams, cries, protests, angry mutterings in fearful, hushed tones. Eponine hadn't joined in. She didn't care. Doesn't care. She doesn't know Jon. Knew Jon? But now, there he is before her, stood like an actor on the stage, the noose about his neck. Hanged man. Eponine chuckles humourlessly. She stares at Jon as the strangers talk, talk about the cities. Eponine doesn't care where she goes as long as it isn't back.

She heads to the nearest portal, but a hand on her arm stops her and Eponine looks back, first at the hand, then arm, shoulder, and finally face. Nadine.
Eponine smiles, her bloodied and bruised face stretching into a grin that makes her whimper in pain.
"Madame! For so long I've wanted you there in the dungeons with me. I thought you'd forgotten me."
But how could Nadine visit her if she was in solitary?