A Franc or Two - Les Misérables [IN EDITING]

Eavesdropping - Chapter 1

Le Café Musain was a second home to you. You and Matelote, a fellow waitress, had always been quite close— though recently, all you seemed to be good for was taking her place whenever she snuck out to meet a man.

This was your third back-to-back replacement this week.

You tossed on your uniform, hardly able to see what you were doing in the glowing candlelight. Changing in a closet wasn't always your cup of tea.

Giving up about halfway through, you ended up marching outside while still tying your corset, muttering a string of profanities that a few foul-mouthed men seemed proud of.

The first thing you noticed was that there were more men packed inside than usual. You didn't make much of it, however, since you were too busy lamenting your loss of free time before you were called over.

"Mademoiselle!" a curly-haired man called out, grinning as he raised his hand high for you to see.

Ah, Grantaire.

You recognized him immediately.

You clutched onto the strings of your corset as you weaved past two men bickering (they had been here since noon), and nothing could stop the smile parting on your lips.

"Oh— sorry," you half-heartedly apologized to a chair as you ran into it, and your smile was quick to widen the closer you got to Grantaire. That man's happiness was contagious— hell, he was the only reason you remotely thought of taking over a second shift tonight.

"Back again already?" you asked, chuckling a little. "I'm certain I saw you at noon today."

"A lot can change in the span of a few hours," he said nonchalantly, sipping away at another bottle of alcohol. You cocked an eyebrow and bit back a smile.

"You already want another?" you asked with a small chuckle. "You've barely drank out of that one."

"I can finish it, if you'd like," he said. He grinned, as if he had just been challenged, and he lifted it up to his lips, ready to chug.

"As good as that would be for business, I don't think I'd want you to risk your wellbeing."

Grantaire went from entertained to the slightest bit disappointed. He let the bottle drop from his lips with a soft whine— but after just a moment or two, he grinned up at you again while resting his chin on his fist.

"When's your shift over?" he asked, seeming to completely ignore the man in front of him. The poor guy was just looking around, pretending to find interest in the wooden floorboards or poorly-built table.

"Few hours," you shrugged. "But considering the amount of people there are tonight... probably a little longer."

"Well, after the meeting, you and me can grab a drink—"

Before he could finish what he was saying— much less, before you could respond— the man sitting across from him whacked him upside the head.

Whack.

"Hey! What the hell was that for?" Grantaire asked, rubbing his head as he looked up at you. "D'you see that?"

"You can't just tell people about our meetings," the man said. He looked to you, running a hand through his hair before giving you an awkward smile. He seemed to feel bad.

"I apologize for him, Mademoiselle," the man said. He was quite handsome, if you were being honest— with that head of dark hair and genuine smile— but you wouldn't admit that aloud... Even though you were weak at the knees when he did so much as smile at you.