"What are you?" Eponine asks curiously. "You look like such a thing I thought I saw back in Paris when I were that hungry, I were dizzy. I used to see monsters then - or thought I did. They were in my head, not real. But you are, no?"

She scowls. "Always it is me burning bridges. Never her. She is the one what calls names, not me. Would you stand and take such a slur? Though perhaps you are stupid enough to let her away with it?"