I... I've done bad things. There's the devil in me, so much as I try to be an angel, but it's all the same in the end, isn't it?

[She chews the inside of her lips, debating whether to tell Nero what she's done. But no. She doesn't say what her crimes are, doesn't want to give him the power to hang it over her - for she feels like Nero is the type to do exactly that, should it ever suit him.
Confirmation comes with his cool assessment that not only has he murdered, but he's done it more than once.

Eponine tilts her head, baring her neck for him as his finger travels. It's fitting, isn't it? To be courted or taunted or whatever this is - a mix of both - by a murderer? She doesn't deserve someone gentle, someone kind. She deserves someone who wants to entice her further into the darkness.

She flinches as Nero's fingers return to her face. He might feel a trace of damp on her bruised cheeks; the trace of a desperate tear that has escaped despite all her efforts to hold back. But Eponine nods.]

So I must kill her? If only I should have a knife. Slitting her throat is easier than strangling. Or poison - easier still. Poison would be a good way, for she'd know it too. Feel it.

[She chokes the words out. Eponine doesn't want to kill, doesn't want to blacken her soul, doesn't want to go back to solitary. Again. But she doesn't want to die at Julie's hand, doesn't want Nero whispering in her ear. If she just does it, will everyone leave her alone?]

Can't you help me, Sir? I'll do -

[She takes a shaky breath, knowing the bargain she's offering is one her father has made on her behalf so many times before.]

I'll be at your disposal, to please you and do as you will. If you help me.