There's NEVER enough fan fiction!

Hi. Right? have you gotten this far, you can never get enough. And you have my everlasting love and dying respect -- ONLY if you have READ everything till now! *grin* There is one little thing you have to know now -- we have this role-playing board, where we have invented some new characters. Some of them take place in these dialogues. The ones I can think of are

1. Marie - she's Courfeyrac's younger sister and one of Bahorel's best friends. She also dates ENJOLRAS, to tell you the turth. *s*

2. Gabrielle - a waitress working at Musain. She is Bahorel's girlfriend (wow, seems like *he* gets enough attention here! Well, suits me, since he's not even *in* the musical).

Other characters invented that jumps to my mind, but who I am not sure whether appears in any dialogues are: Alain (Gavroche's gamin friend), Julie (Jehan's fiancee, actually wife, but that's a little secret to the world), Antoinette (Jehan's little sister, dating Joly at the moment), Therese (another waitress, being a true revolutinary). Another thing: These are all my own. They aren't written in this context, there are newer ones written in section 3, but right now I am too tired to fix it up. Enjoy.


Dialogue 23: Maria Gavroche

(Fantine has become a prostitute a while ago. It's fall, and she is walking the streets, finally coming to a small bar where she enters silently. There are others whores in there, and, of course, pimps and drunkards, and some small children running about their mothers' skirts. Fantine tiredly closes the door behind her, and walks to the bar, watched by a thousand eyes. She leans against the wall and one of her friends comes up to her.)

LADY: Hullo, Fantine, what are you at? You look like trash. And your hair .. (starts pulling her fingers through Fantine's long (I KNOW she's cut it but I WANT it to be long) hair) .. it's so dirty! Whatever have you done to yourself, girl?

FANTINE: Oh, not much, Fabienne. I'm simply tired.

FABIENNE: (pats her head) Aren't we all, dear ... (turns and starts collecting glasses from the bar).

FANTINE: (watching her) You got another job?

FABIENNE: What, you mean this? (Points at the glasses) Yeah .. but it don't make much money. I still have to keep up with these pimps. What about you, honey?

FANTINE: No .. yes, me too. I'll never find anything else. Not that I care much, it's just so damn tiring. It .. they stress me so. I just want to sleep, but I never can.

FABIENNE: Did you hear some more from that little thing of yours?

FANTINE: Cosette? (Her eyes turn dreamy) No .. she's .. she's still living there, in Montfermeil. (She puts her arms around herself, as to warm up, and starts combing her hair with her fingers.)

FABIENNE: (giggles) Well, that's how it goes, having a kid at your age. And without a husband of any sort. You poor thing ... at least she's better off than you, and bless me for that!

FANTINE: I don't know how she's doing .. she's so ill all the time, they tell me. I want so much to see her. She was really pretty, you should've known her.

FABIENNE: (yawning) Yeah, honey, I know how gorgeous she is. I'm just sayin', it's a good thing she's not with you. Heaven knows what that girl could've gone through, livin' here. (She points at the little kids running around.) See those over there? All ragged and thin, they look like mice, all of ‘em. Hair cut short to sell, half-naked in this winter cold, large, grey eyes ... I'm shivering just thinking of ‘em. (Shudders and turns away from her.) You're a smart girl to have left Cosette. I know you feel guilty, but don't. She'd be worse off here.

FANTINE: But I miss her. She's what I am doing all this for. Maybe she's saving my life .. I wouldn't have been here if it weren't for her. I'd be long dead, I know.

FABIENNE: And you'd be better off then, hon. (She pats her head again and leaves. Fantine stays, eyes closed, leaned against the wall, when a man come up to her.)

MAN: Lady?

FANTINE: (opens her eyes slowly) What.

MAN: Are you available for the evening? (He's quite handsome, but Fantine thinks nothing of it. He's tall and tries to be charming, but not much charms her anymore.)

FANTINE: Oh, I don't know. (She sits down at a table, staring to the floor, feeling sick.)

MAN: What do you mean? You are working, aren't you?

FANTINE: Yeah, hell .. I am. But I am deadly tired.

MAN: I'll freshen you up for sure, darlin'. (He picks up some money and puts them between her breasts and her torn dress, touching her as much as possible doing so.) What do you say?

FANTINE: (stares at him with wet eyes, spitefully, tiredly, sadly) I say nothing. I never do, never again. I've already tasted that. (She stands up and takes his hand coldly.) Come on, sir. There are rooms right up here.

MAN: I convinced you then? (smiling grimly)

FANTINE: (stops shyly, then walks on) No .. she did.

(Meanwhile, in Montfermeil. Cosette is finished doing her duties and is half asleep on the kitchen, when Mme. Thénardier enters.)

MME.T: Cosette!

COSETTE: (wakes up so fast her eyes nearly pop out) Madame?

MME.T: You're not sleeping yet, I say. There's still work to do, little wretch.

COSETTE: But .. I've already done all my chores. I've washed the floors, and cleaned the tables, and there are no customers here any more. (She speaks silently, staring at a certain spot on the floor.)

MME. T: And you think you're finished? (She grabs her arms and shakes her lightly.) You wake up and get into Éponine's room! You have to clean it before she can go to bed. How many times have I told you!?

COSETTE: (tries to wring out of the tight grip, leans back as to avoid coming close to the large woman) I don't know, Madame ... many times, I thought I'd done it.

MME. T: You were wrong. (Stares at her evilly.) Don't you ever think you are right when I tell you differently.

COSETTE: (her eyes fill) No, Madame ...

MME. T: You know how much better off you are here than you'd be with your mother! That street tramp who abandoned you here for us to take care of. You're turning out to be your mother's grace, for sure. If she kept in contact, I'd surely tell her what a terrible woman she is and what a troublesome child you are! But assumingly, the tramp is dead.

COSETTE: But she does keep in contact! I saw a letter —

(Mme. T. slaps her face hard, Cosette screams silently and tries to jerk away, but Mme. T. hits her again and lets her go.)

MME. T: Now, I told you to be grateful! I am never wrong, I'm telling you - not to you. Get on your way and clean little ‘Ponine's room or I'll surely give you something to whine about!

COSETTE: (crying silently) Yes, Madame.

(She runs off into ‘Ponine's room, where she can't hide her tears anymore. She bursts out and sobs, sinking to the floor. Éponine sits on her bed, watching her wide-eyed.)

COSETTE: Oh mother! I know I am not better off without you! Please, come and take me away! Please ... I am so tired ...

ÉPONINE: Mother says your mother is dead already.

COSETTE: She's not! She's very much alive and she is much nicer than your mother! Much nicer and prettier and warmer, and she loves —

ÉPONINE: Hush, or she'll hear you. I don't care if your mom's dead or what she is. I am tried too.

COSETTE: (crying again) Don't tell — Éponine, don't ...

ÉPONINE: I'll see tomorrow. (She falls asleep and Cosette cleans her room, almost washing it with her own tears. Éponine never tells her mother about the incident.)

(Fantine is sleeping with that man who came to her, and suddenly sits up and throws him off her body.)

FANTINE: Cosette!

MAN: (gurgling) Huh? What the hell —

FANTINE: (puts her hands to her heart) Oh, my little ... what is happening? Cosette?

(Cosette still scrubs ‘Ponine's floor, crying and pleading for her mother to come help her.)


Dialogue 24: Maria Gavroche: On The Barricade ...

(Dusk has entered the barricade, which lies silently, yet very much alive, up against the tavern Corinth. There is a small pack of people sitting outside in the grim light from the windows, playing cards and drinking wine from small tin cups. Some people still are working on the barricade, among them Éponine, dressed as a boy, and a few other workers. Enjolras is inside Corinth, walking restlessly among the students, partly joining their conversations, but never taking serious part in the loose talk. Grantaire is still awake, drinking, Bahorel is sitting one table away from him, watching him with curiosity and wit, while talking to Combeferre and three women. Marius is outside with Courfeyrac, Joly and Jehan, and one can see on his face who he is thinking of. Gavroche has settled in a window-sell, whistling and humming to himself, stealing from Grantaire's bottle whenever he dozes off. The feeling on the barricade is mixed with tense anxiousness and a charmed relaxed feel.)

GRANTAIRE: Now well, what in the world am I doing here? Is this cause of any importance to me whatsoever? Will I regret this ... decision, if that is what it is? (He lifts up his head to see Enjolras stopping and talking with a worker.) Oh ... then what would I have done outside this barricade? I do not help a lot, but I harm even less. Maybe I keep the others from getting drunk ... I have taken all their wine ... (stares into his bottle) This is emptier than it was before I fell into my short sleep. Gavroche —

GAVROCHE: (Watches him wide-eyed from his position in the window, his rags blowing in the tender wind. He notices Grantaire's suspicious look, from the bottle onto himself.) Hullo you old sleepy-head. How's it goin'? Still lazy and lame?

GRANTAIRE: Oh, you know me, as always. Lay off my wine, gamin, you are not even old enough.

GAVROCHE: So I am old enough to use a gun and not old enough to drink. I am old enough to die, but not to live. I bet you started drinking when you were three.

GRANTAIRE: No, I wasn't that young, but I can't remember my first time. What is your favourite drink gamin?

GAVROCHE: (not very interested, looking out the window, keeping an eye on the young ‘man' always staying close to Marius.) Whiskey and red wine, don't know which sort. I never get around to write down the brand. What's up? (He jumps down and leaves him.)

GRANTAIRE: Well ... got rid of you finally. (He looks at Enjolras again, with tired, wet eyes, and takes a large sip out of his bottle, while keeping eye-contact with the strong, blond man.)

ENJOLRAS: (walks over to him slowly, watching him with a strange look in his eyes.) Grantaire ..

GRANTAIRE: Do not lecture me this time, O Leader. I will die soon enough, let me enjoy these last few hours in peace.

ENJOLRAS: Why would I lecture you? I only lecture those with a future, with a hope. Grantaire — can I ask of you why you want to die here? You look so tired, and if this is your way of enjoying life, then don't let it all come to an end. We don't want people who are unwilling to die, get killed here.

GRANTAIRE: I am as willing to die as any of you are. I have no reason to object, once you are gone. Once you all are gone.

ENJOLRAS: You will easily find new friends, friends who may suit your style better than we do. There is no point in your death, Grantaire. Are you so unhappy? Is that the reason? To me you have always seemed like a glad, reckless, careless drunkard who would live as long as life was long and enjoy it — in your own, sick ways. Tell me why you wish to die here with us.

GRANTAIRE: (giving him a long stare, then sighing and pushing the bottle away, silently.) One day, Enjolras, you will know more than only the future of the people. I find you a creature from somewhere else, a God maybe — you have understood all the things that normal folks never do, or take a life-time to understand; and you have ignored all the other little facts of life, the facts that even I, a swell drunkard, have gotten a clear hold of. But someday you will see everything, and probably reach perfection. (Putting his hands to his forehead) God, am I drunk.

ENJOLRAS: (looking him with a mixed feel of astonishment and despise) Die if you wish, citizen, and live if you find it attractive. But do not let the spirit of your carelessness stay in this place — put it aside for the spirit of all these others, these men, these people .. they believe, Grantaire. Die if you wish, but don't leave but an empty bottle. (He leaves him and goes outside. Grantaire drops off, and Bahorel stands up and pats his head.)

BAHOREL: ‘Die if you wish, citizen!' And he calls *you* careless, what? (He laughs his rough, sweet laughter.) So Grantaire, you have anything to spare for one of your comrades with the right spirit?

GRANTAIRE: Take what's left, Bahorel. Take it and use it well. And die when you must, my brave-hearted scoundrel.

(Bahorel also goes outside, to join Marius, Courfeyrac, Jehan and Joly in a game of cards. Enjolras stands alone at the top of the barricade, staring across the streets, as if he saw something great, beyond the walls. Éponine is finally resting, sitting close to Marius, hiding herself, but with shining dark eyes.)

BAHOREL: I would like to hear some gossip, my friends. Anyone up for a chat?

COURFEYRAC: I am, but not as the teller, this time. Marius, how about you?

MARIUS: I have no gossip to spread.

BAHOREL: Oh, bugger! You are the *source* of gossip to us, my dear. How about your little missy in the garden?

MARIUS: Cosette? Oh ... but she is no gossip, she is true as the sun, sweet as the dawn.

COURFEYRAC AND BAHOREL (exchanging looks): That sounds well enough for us!!

ÉPONINE: Let us talk about more revolutionary matters. Are we not here to fight? We are not here because of women. (She whispers, harshly, her eyes shining even more.)

JOLY: I don't believe we have introduced ourselves, sir. What is your name? It is wise things you are saying.

ÉPONINE: I am .. I .. I don't like telling my name ...

BAHOREL: You don't look familiar. Have you been at Musain ever?

COURFEYRAC: Why, you don't like your name?

(They keep asking her questions she cannot answer when suddenly Gavroche approaches and grabs her arm from behind.)

GAVROCHE: Hey you get over here, you are needed!

(They stand up and Ponine hurries away, throwing back no looks at the men with wondering faces. She stops in a dark corner and finds Gavroche by her side.)

ÉPONINE: What d'you do that for?

GAVROCHE: (blows) Hah ‘Ponine, I always know when you're in trouble.

ÉPONINE: (sharp, but simply because of his recognition of her) You don't know anything. How d'you know it's me?

GAVROCHE: (insulted) Well if you don't appreciate my helping manners I'll just tell your sweet-heart Marius who you are and that you love him, and maybe I'll even fix up a little story of my *own* about you, let's say, *harassing* Cosette. Then he'll have you out of here, handed over to the National Guard in no time, and you'll never ever see him again cos you'll be dead and he won't.

ÉPONINE: Gavroche! Don't you dare even talking to him about me! (Putting on a sweeter face) Come on, gamin. Please, don't tell him. I have to clue how you know all this, and I don't really care. Just keep your mouth shut or I'll shut you up for good, you hear?

GAVROCHE: Why's it so important? He'll never know and he'll live happily ever after, or he'll *know*, and *still* live happily ever after. Is it pride, Ponine? I know you love him alright. Why else would you be here?

ÉPONINE: Look, just don't tell him who I am, you hear? Or anyone else. Gavroche — come on. Don't. Promise me.

GAVROCHE: Sure thing. Got my word. (He leaves her and finds Bahorel and the others still talking, with Marius gone.)

BAHOREL: Little friend. Join us please.

GAVROCHE: I have quite an interesting story for you ... and it takes place ... *right* here ..

(He grins and leans back against the walls of Corinth, stealing Joly's tin cup again and again, while telling his short story. The night passes on, likewise the evening did; the men are playing cards and gossiping, Marius is dreaming of you-know-who, Éponine fearfully follows him, works a little and sends mean stares to her brother, Grantaire falls fast asleep and Enjolras stands alone on the barricade, still seeing the red morning light beyond the fighting he knows they all will go through.)


Dialogue 25, Maria Gavroche AGAIN:

(Azelma is all alone in her room in the house Gorbeau. She is silent and partly sleeping, but too afraid to doze off for real. She sits up as someone enters.)

ÉPONINE: Little sister. Hullo.

AZELMA: Hullo. Where ... have you been?

ÉPONINE: (walks over to the small table and sits down, stretching her legs out in front of her, smiling her urchin smile.) Oh ... around. Everywhere. I ran into ‘Parnasse, the bastard. What about you, little one?

AZELMA: I was here all day. (She sits up and looks at her sister with scared and anxious eyes.) Éponine — (she is silent)

ÉPONINE: What? Speak up.

AZELMA: I heard Papa saying that ‘our days are over'. That they'd soon get caught, him and la Patron Minette.

ÉPONINE: (laughs cruelly) Hah! And you mind that? I'd be thrilled to get those men out of our lives, the stupid no-good ... they think they are the kings of the world, and they know nothing at all.

AZELMA: (looks down) I don't care what happens to them, but ... my family ... you're all in it. Me too. I don't want to go back to that prison they took us to. (She shivers.)

ÉPONINE: Azelma, Azelma ... (sits beside her and holds her shoulder) We're not getting caught! You were merely a child that last time. They'll never take you again, don't worry. They'll just steal away Papa and his gang of imbesiles, and we'll be left alone by both forces.

AZELMA: Maybe they'll tell on you. Montparnasse will, simply to be cruel.

ÉPONINE: You fear Montparnasse, do you? Little sister, he is nothing to be afraid of! He is but a little boy full of talk and knives. I know he kills when he wants to, but he'd never touch me! He won't tell on me — by the way, he'll never be caught.

AZELMA: He *is* scary. He is dangorous, ‘Ponine! You are so ... so unafraid. How do you manage?

ÉPONINE: (stands up and lays down on the table) Oh ... I manage anything that is requested of me. (Suddenly they hear sounds from the hall and they both get up fast.)

ÉPONINE: Bastard, they are coming now. Oh, I don't feel much like excusing myself to that father of ours already.

AZELMA: What, what have you done?

ÉPONINE: Nothing, Azelma. I just skipped away from him some days ago, when he was angry with me from some reason. (She whispers and opens the door to the hall, and bursts out:) Oh! It is you. How nice to see you, Mama.

MME THÉNARDIER: Hello, my daughter. How are you? Have you eaten anything?

ÉPONINE: Not as much as a crumb of bread. Where have you kept yourself, leaving Azelma all alone up here, afraid and tiny as she is. You truly are not a good mother.

MME THÉNARDIER: Hush now, Éponine, don't you dare telling me I am not a good mother! Haven't I taken good care of you, all since you were born? (Thinks back and falls into her shallow dreams.) Montfermeil ... what a good time we had there! How I appreciated it!

ÉPONINE: (laughs meanly) You, you never appreciated it! All you ever did was mess around and whine about every little thing. You whined about us, and the money we never had, and the inn, and all those babies you gave birth to, and even Father! (Strolls around the room, cheekily pushing her mother.)

MME THÉNARDIER: Éponine, be nice. (Whiny, a little angry and quite upset.) Don't you talk about your father. He has been talking about you enough, and you must better silence yourself if you want to keep that skin on your back.

ÉPONINE: (laughs out again) Oh, you believe I am scared of him! There is no skin of mine that I want to keep, there is no life of mine he can ruin and there is no fear in me that he can awake! He is so ignorant, that man, so stupid. He knows nothing of me. Isn't that so, Azelma?

AZELMA: (watching her wide-eyed) Yes.

MME THÉNARDIER: (grabbing Éponine by the arm) You hush up, young lady. Don't you talk about your father that way! He is all we have to keep close to.

ÉPONINE: Why, he's never here! You must be terrificly cold, Mama, if he is all that keeps you warm! You poor old bat ...

(Mme Thénardier tries to strike her face, but she jerks back and grins widely, looking like a convict and a thief at the same time as a butterfly, having flown in polluted air too long.)

AZELMA: Oh, Mama, come over here, help me! I have cut myself. I tried to cut some wood this morning, and the wood was suddenly my hand. (She gets her attention and glances at Éponine while her mother tries to find the imaginary wound.)

MME THÉNARDIER: I can't see anything, little darling. (She stands up and puts her hands to her fore-head.) I feel so ill! What a terrible life! Oh, what have we done to deserve such misery!

ÉPONINE: Take a guess ... (she talks silently, her mother doesn't hear her.)

MME THÉNARDIER: Have any of you two seen my family lately?

ÉPONINE: You talkin' your old husbond? He's not a whole family. You mean his gang, or Gavroche maybe?

MME THÉNARDIER: I mean my husbond, silly twit! I seriously hope you haven't run into that little scoundrel of a gamin again.

ÉPONINE: I run into him more and more. He seems to be everywhere. (Especially at le café Musain, where Éponine also likes to keep herself to see if Marius comes around..)

AZELMA: He was here yesterday. I was alone.

MME THÉNARDIER: (knitting her fists) Oh, that bastard! He didn't speak to you, did he?

ÉPONINE: (blows) Huh! What's he supposed to do then, be all silent? Gavroche? I don't think you'll ever get your will, mother. He is the least silent person in this town.

MME THÉNARDIER: If I had my will, I'd silence him forever. Now, where is your father?

ÉPONINE: Gone, dead, I don't know. (She starts to the door.) Azelma, join me will you? I have to get out of this hole before he gets in.

(Azelma follows her and they leave together, into the grey whether of fall in Paris)


Dialogue 26: guess who's:

[We are at le Musain. The people there are Marie, Enjolras, Bahorel, Gavroche, Joly, Bossuet. Everything that we've made up has happened. With Marie and Enjolras, Gabrielle, all that stuff. Marie, Bahorel, Joly and Bossuet are playing cards, Enjolras is discussing things with some people we don't know, and Gavroche runs around bothering everyone as usual. He settles down watching the card-playing crowd.]

BAHOREL: Hah! seems like I am winning. Make my day.

MARIE: Well, you deserve a good day, dear. You hardly ever win, do you?

BAHOREL: [laughs] Was that to be an insult?

MARIE: That's up to you.

[They play on. Gavroche leans over Joly's back and feels rather displeased. He's very active and starts climbing Joly's back until he's sitting on his shoulders.]

JOLY: Hey! [falling forwards] What are you *doing*? You're little, but you have got some weight on you after all. I'm sick already, Gavroche! Get off me!

GAVROCHE: You need some strength if you're gonna fight in a revolution! [he refuses to get off, the others laugh, including Joly. But Gavroche is too heavy for him, so he suddenly sits up so that he brutally falls to the floor.]

GAVROCHE: Ow! You broke my back!

JOLY: I just did to you what you did to me! [he smiles and helps him up] You okay?

GAVROCHE: Sure I am. Always. But I'm bored as hell. Can't you stop playing? Or at least join me in? I am a better player than many of you [glares at Bahorel]. Won't mention names. [grins.]

BAHOREL: I saw that ... [keeps his eyes on the game still. When they finish, they start talking about different things, and he and Marie ends up in a corner. Bahorel looks rather bad, and Marie is worried.]

MARIE: Bahorel ... what is the matter with you? You look ... sad. Has something happened?

BAHOREL: No ... [smiles, but weakly.] I guess that's the problem. Nothing has happened.

MARIE: Bored? [smiles] Don't you worry — you'll soon get to fight!

BAHOREL: No — it's ... [sighs] Ah, Marie. I am truly in love, although no one believes me. She hasn't written me since that first letter I got in here. I have written her but ... she said she'd move around a little. I haven't seen her in more than a month. I don't know what to do. I sort of hoped this feeling would pass as long as she was away but ... it just gets stronger.

MARIE: [puts her arm around him] Hey ... Gabrielle will be back. And we all know she loves you! But it does worry me that she hasn't let you, or anyone, know anything about where she is. But ... I'm sure she's fine. And I can't believe she's forgotten about you. Who could? [winks at him, but it doesn't cheer him up.]

BAHOREL: Thanks for your support, but it doesn't do me any good. Sorry. Look — I think I have to leave here. This depresses me.

MARIE: [worried] Hey Bahorel — I am sorry, did I say something wrong to you?

BAHOREL: No for God's sake! [smiles] It's just that talking about her makes everything .. worse. And I hate being sad in public. I hate being sad at *all*.

MARIE: Yeah, you really make me scared when you are. You're one of the happiest people I know, Bahorel.

BAHOREL: All happiness takes a holiday ... [he stands up, but is attacked by Gavroche]

GAVROCHE: Leaving so soon? What, to find a little lady to spend the night with? [glances at Marie] She turned you down again? Hah! you haven't had much luck lately, have you, don Juan?

BAHOREL: [sighs, tries to smile, but fails] Um — Gavroche, lay off. Please.

GAVROCHE: Wah! The lack of women must have freaked you out. Where's your humour?

BAHOREL: It's gone for tonight. [to his own surprise he feels like a rock has filled up his chest, and he breathes heavily, turning to Marie as in despair.]

MARIE: Bahorel —

GAVROCHE: Maybe you should cheer him up, Marie. I'm sure you can manage it. Cheating on Enjolras can't be that bad, and if you don't, this guy here'll end up in the Red Light district!

MARIE: [angrily grabbing his arm and pulls him near her. She knows he means no harm, but Bahorel's mood frightens her and she won't have Gavroche doing this] Hush up! You hear me? Leave him alone — he's not what you think. [She shakes him, but lightly.]

GAVROCHE: Hey! What's everyone's problem? I simply speak the truth. You *know* how he is. Has he spoken about his little waitress again? He doesn't *mean* it! He can't mean it. He's not like that. She's just one of his adventures. A little whore, like everyone else.

[Marie's eyes darken and she squeezes his arm and looks ready to slap him, something that Gavroche notices. But Bahorel puts his hand on her shoulder and frees Gavroche.]

BAHOREL: S'okay, Marie. [to her privately] Thanks for being protective ... but he's right. It's no wonder he believes this. Come on — it's they way I've always been. It's the way he wants me to be. He *is* a child, Marie, he doesn't know about this. Don't be hard on him. I don't think he expects you to be, ever, and after all, it's just because you're worried about me. I'll speak to him. [He turns to Gavroche, who looks rather shocked] Come on, come over here, Gavroche. [He follows him, silently, glancing at Marie.]

GAVROCHE: Why's she so angry with me? What ... what's wrong with you, Bahorel?

BAHOREL: Look, it's just that .. you can't understand it, but I really do love Gabrielle. [Gavroche sighs, but Bahorel puts his hand over his mouth and smiles.] I am not happy tonight, Gavroche. I miss her. Think of it as if it were your best friend having been gone for more than a month. I think that's the best example I can give you. Just ... add some more feelings into it. [He looks down.] Marie is the only one I talk to about how I feel and ... that's why she's angry when people speak to me like that right now. I don't think she's angry with you, really, it's just cos she's worried for me. Don't ... be scared of her. [Looks into his eyes to see if he thinks that remark was stupid, but he doesn't find any sign of it.]

GAVROCHE: Okay. I'll just keep out of her way. Sorry if I hurt you. Maybe I can't understand what you feel, and maybe I *hate* what you feel — but I'll leave it to you. She's not ... oh. Have a nice night.

BAHOREL: [leaving] Take care. I'll see you tomorrow. [He catches Marie's eye and smiles weakly to her, waving as he leaves. Gavroche sits down with Joly and glances at Marie from time to time, looking almost scared. After some time he goes over to her, but keeps his distance.]

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