It's strange, Susan muses, this way Eponine has. Every time she thinks she's got a handle on the other girl, she says something like that, and Susan's heart breaks for her all over again. Doesn't matter if she's irritated, doesn't matter that she's still doubting her choices, doesn't matter that she's gods only know how many miles from Roland's side, where she no doubt ought to be: Eponine says that, and she knows she's got to stay. How can she not, in the face of something so simple and so easy to address, something that's so absolutely unbearable?

"Well, I'm hugging 'ee now," she says briskly, after a moment, and hugs a little tighter. Eponine's so thin, she thinks. Bones like a bird's, shifting under her hand. Ye're soft, Sue, her aunt's voice sneers in her mind, but she can't bring herself to mind it. Soft's better than bitter. "And I ain't goin' anywhere, so if it's too much, just... just come to me, alright? I came here for 'ee. Might as well make use of it."