"More than a bar," Eponine laughs. She sounds like a goose honking, but in the dark of the night, in a quiet street like this, it sounds more than a little sinister.

"No, Sir. I do not want your bar. I want more. I want -" She reaches a finger to trace along his neck.

"You are a good looking man, you know. Your hair is so lovely. I bet so soft to touch. You are good looking, you know?"

She steps closer, inhaling his scent, not his perfume, but his blood. "Your heart is pounding, Sir. It beats so it bursts. Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom. And yet you look so scared. Do not be scared. It is no more than a prick, Sir. Like a knife to your throat, and you know, it made me always do as my Sire desired to have a knife there. It is not so bad if you let yourself go."

She goes to stroke his throat again. "Your hair is so lovely, M'sieur."