I come to fight. Or at least, to listen.

chapter 19

Chapter 19

~Pere~

At the flat, Evelyn scanned the jobs section of the newspaper during her lunch break at the flat. Rene and Caroline were out playing and Enjolras was doing whatever. There was only an opening for a scullery maid. Which Evelyn detested the idea of for a few reasons: it was the lowest of the low in terms of ranking, it was mainly washing dishes and floors, and the idea of having no control over what she did the entire day was almost unbearable. At least at the book store she could read the merchandise.

But it was two francs a day. Which she needed. She circled the address of the employer and hid it under the bed. She wouldn't let Enjolras know of her potential occupation.

Enjolras opened the door, striding into the main room. "Bonjour, mademoiselle." He said, taking off his jacket.

"Bonjour, Julien," Evelyn said pleasantly. She had picked up a book, pretending that she had been reading it all along. "Are you hungry? I'm planning on making an omelet, so if you want one..."

"That would be wonderful," Enjolras replied. He had gone for a walk that morning, but got rather side tracked and spent the day at the Sorbonne's library, forgetting to eat anything until now.

Evelyn tied up her hair as she moved to the kitchen. She placed a teakettle on the stove. "So how has your day been so far?" she asked, not moving her eyes from her task.

"Good. I went to the library. I think I'm going to continue my classes this fall." Enjolras answered, taking his seat on the chair at the desk. He had thought of a few phrases on his walk and wanted to jot them down before they got lost.

"Joly's quite the trendsetter, huh?" she said with a lopsided smile. Enjolras noticed the dimple in her left cheek. He gave a noncommittal nod. "Anyways, how close are you to graduating?" She lifted the teakettle and poured boiling water into two cups.

"This coming spring."

Evelyn almost spilled hot water on herself. What? He didn't look that old to me. I thought he was my age. I mean, four years isn't that much of a difference, but still. "Oh," she laughed breathily. Enjolras looked at her, confused. "I'm only 17. I turn 18 in December, though," she answered. At the moment she couldn't remember the exact date.

Enjolras swallowed. Alright... I thought she was older, but that's ok. Four years isn't really irregular. She's pretty mature anyways. It's not like we'd be doing anything! You don't even know if any thing would happen. Don't get ahead of yourself.

She handed him his tea, their fingertips touching. Enjolras felt the tips of his ears warm and immediately bolted up in posture, a little tea sloshing out of the cup and onto Evelyn's skirt. Evelyn saw his cheeks go a little pink and he smoothed his hair with his palm.

She laughed it off as she ran her hands down her skirt.

"Pardon me, I am so sorry."

"It's fine," she said, smiling, "I'll just smell like earl grey for the day." She strolled back to the kitchen and cracked an egg on the countertop, slipping it onto the pan. Enjolras returned to his book.

As her omelet cooked, she got progressively more worried that her siblings hadn't come home. What if Papa found them? What if one of them got run over by a carriage or something?

As she flipped her omelet, her prayers were answered. Rene sauntered through the door, Caroline in tow. They both had re-worn their dirty clothing from yesterday.

Enjolras lifted his eyes from Voltaire and onto the children. Rene walked up to his sister and stole a chunk of ham from the cutting board. Evelyn placed a kiss on the top of his head and ruffled his hair.