Jace flurried his brows, listening to her speak. He figured most had sorrowful story, one similar to his. While Jace struggled to recall most of his past, it was clear that this girl held a clearer connection towards her terrors. “I don’t think many of us choose the lives we live,” he muttered, figuring that if he had a choice to be parentless, he wouldn’t have picked it. Instead Jace mourned the lost of his parents, especially the man he assumed to be his father. “Where are your parents now?” He asked, curious whether they had been in the town as well. When she asked him to sing, Jace tilted his head away – wondering why he brought it up. He had not minded showing his skills off, but normally used it as a way to relax. Hardly anyone heard him play, not since his father. “Really? I guess we would have to find one. Couldn’t tell you where, but we can try.” He managed to state, actually thinking of locations they could look. “Sing? That is something you’d never get out of me. Do you sing?”
Her and her parents were only close when she was little and money wasn’t much of an issue. But now that poverty was at large over Paris, she didn’t see much of them. However, talking about them wasn’t much of a sore spot for her. They weren’t the best people, she didn’t mind distancing herself. “My parents? No clue, haven’t spoken to them in a while, actually. We’re not the closest.” Jace could probably tell so much, but she just wanted to make sure. At his next question, Éponine grinned to herself and shook her head. “I sing when I’m absolutely alone. Other than that, you won’t hear a note from me.” She did like hearing others sing though, even if they were bad. It was nice to see people so confident in themselves to stand up and do that. “The piano’s been something I’ve always wanted to learn though. Never had enough time, so I settle for watching others.” As another breeze ran through the town, she tugged her coat more tightly around herself with a small shiver. “When did you learn to play?”
