[ He raises his eyebrows at the idea of what she thinks Ambrose deserves. At the idea of being able to get close to him to begin with. But, hey, if they're talking about fantasies, ]
Not sure what you're gonna get done by rapping his knuckles and boxing his ears. [ The skepticism in his voice is enhanced by the fact that he's never heard those terms before. He gets what she means from context, but what a weird way to say it. ] Think I'd just kill him if I got close enough to do any of those things.
[ Plain spoken, just stating a fact. He's pissed off, yeah. She's annoying, yeah. But threats and venting aren't his thing. He says he's going to do something, he's probably going to do it, and that's that.
And at least, for the duration of her answer, she's got his full attention. The weight is set back down, and he watches her as she goes on, speaking a language he both is and isn't fluent in.
It takes him a moment. There's a lot he doesn't like about what she's said, but. He can't argue with any of it. Eponine's not a good person, she's made that very clear. But neither is he. He'll never have a high ground; wouldn't know what to do with it even if he did. So. Amos works his mouth. Doesn't know where to begin. Finds a spot. ]
You're out on the streets like that, you have to be smart. If you're not, that's what happens. [ He heard some of the stories from growing up. If you weren't careful, you were robbed, raped, killed. Heard about it happening more than once, when someone never came back. Made sure it was never him, and then he grew too big, too strong for it to ever be him. ] People die. You're right. It doesn't matter. There's a whole city to replace them.
[ Except it matters when it's someone he cares about; it's just he could probably count the number of people he cares about on one hand. So it doesn't really come up. So it doesn't matter.
Amos' gaze drifts to a guard. His shoulders tense; his fists clench, unclench. He wants to pick a fight so fucking badly; doesn't want to get up, walk over to a guard, be put down before he can even get so much as a swing in—
He doesn't turn back to Eponine, but with a deadened voice, adds on, ] If he wasn't gonna wear the dresses, might as well have let you have them. Kind of a dick move not to do that.
cw reference to prostitution + associated violence
Not sure what you're gonna get done by rapping his knuckles and boxing his ears. [ The skepticism in his voice is enhanced by the fact that he's never heard those terms before. He gets what she means from context, but what a weird way to say it. ] Think I'd just kill him if I got close enough to do any of those things.
[ Plain spoken, just stating a fact. He's pissed off, yeah. She's annoying, yeah. But threats and venting aren't his thing. He says he's going to do something, he's probably going to do it, and that's that.
And at least, for the duration of her answer, she's got his full attention. The weight is set back down, and he watches her as she goes on, speaking a language he both is and isn't fluent in.
It takes him a moment. There's a lot he doesn't like about what she's said, but. He can't argue with any of it. Eponine's not a good person, she's made that very clear. But neither is he. He'll never have a high ground; wouldn't know what to do with it even if he did. So. Amos works his mouth. Doesn't know where to begin. Finds a spot. ]
You're out on the streets like that, you have to be smart. If you're not, that's what happens. [ He heard some of the stories from growing up. If you weren't careful, you were robbed, raped, killed. Heard about it happening more than once, when someone never came back. Made sure it was never him, and then he grew too big, too strong for it to ever be him. ] People die. You're right. It doesn't matter. There's a whole city to replace them.
[ Except it matters when it's someone he cares about; it's just he could probably count the number of people he cares about on one hand. So it doesn't really come up. So it doesn't matter.
Amos' gaze drifts to a guard. His shoulders tense; his fists clench, unclench. He wants to pick a fight so fucking badly; doesn't want to get up, walk over to a guard, be put down before he can even get so much as a swing in—
He doesn't turn back to Eponine, but with a deadened voice, adds on, ] If he wasn't gonna wear the dresses, might as well have let you have them. Kind of a dick move not to do that.