Eponine listens to the tirade. She wants to tell Susan that it's not just pretty girls who are catcalled in the streets, or touched when they're not asking for it, or even made to go further. It happens to the bony, the dirty, the ugly too. She doesn't want to admit it because she doesn't want to admit that she loves when it happens. Even when it hurts - and god, Montparnasse knows how to make it hurt - she loves it. It hurts but it proves that she can feel, that she's still alive.

But Susan doesn't need to know that.

Eponine sits in reflective silence for a moment or two.

"I'm sorry."

She sighs. "I... it happened to us, too. When we lost the inn, we sold everything, and then when they were coming to arrest Pa, we fled. We ran to Paris, and Pa sold the horse, the cart - everything we had. We changed our names and lived - god, we lived in hovels and holes, and rooms filled with other families. They sold -"
She shakes her head bitterly. "My Ma had children. Boys, they were. She had 'em and she sold 'em. And then, when there weren't more to sell..."

She shrugs. "There is always something to sell, ain't there? To 'Parnasse, for a better placing. To offer the men what he begs from. Don't matter what you look like. But, it's a warm bed so I don't mind so much. And 'Parnasse is so beautiful, Susan. All the girls like 'Parnasse, even the real ladies of society. And he still picks me. It's worth something, innit? More than a dress, I suppose."

She's silent again. She hadn't meant to admit any of that.

"I weren't meaning to be rude, you know? It's just... here, this is the best life I have had in forever. A prison is my best home, you know? I just wish there were summat - summat I can say to them others, or show, or have. And them what are free. I just wish -" She shrugs. "But wishes are stupid, and I ought not have said any of this."