"Well, perhaps you would to, if -" But what is the point in even protesting? She knows she's dirty: it's not like her scruffiness is a choice though, and it's definitely not nice to have it pointed out to her. She hugs her jacket just a little bit closer to her body, as if that will prevent her unpleasant smell from reaching Joscelin's nostrils. It's definitely embarrassing, and Eponine's gaze shifts to the floor, which she scuffs with her battered boot.

"I don't think he'll want me, Monsieur, not to go off with. Unless..." It occurs to her then what Joscelin might be implying, and she quietens. Of course. How silly of her not to think of that. Why wouldn't Montparnasse set her up for that? It wouldn't be the first, nor the last time, that he played such a trick on her.
She nods at Jocelyn. "As he wishes, I suppose. If there is more blood in the end for me."