It might be men that attack Imogen, but it's a petite brunette that steps out of the shadows, fangs barred, to approach her. As Eponine nears, Imogen might notice the sallowness to Eponine's skin, the slight shake the girl's fingers have, the hungry look in her eyes.

Eponine approaches, but a vampire stops her too.
"Payment first," he demands, his voice low. Eponine glances from one man to another. She's paid once already, and in more than just money, but it's obvious that they won't let her near the fae without a bit extra.
She digs her hands deep into her battered leather jacket, and pulls out a few crumpled twenties, which she sullenly, silently, holds out to the vampire.
She doesn't look at Imogen- Eponine can imagine well enough how scared she's feeling right now, but quite frankly, she couldn't care less. She needs the fix. It's been - god, three days, four? It was one of the last things she had done in Paris, in that dingy doorway. He'd made her inject then: it didn't give the same satisfaction as drinking it, but it was better than nothing.
She waits, scuffing the ground with her Doc Marten, until the vampire nods at her.

On cue, the others leave go of Imogen, and begin to back out of the alley, muttering about easy money and desperate junkies gleefully.
Only then does Eponine look up at Imogen.

And then she jumps at her, hoping to slam her back into the wall behind.