Montparnasse would never be able to understand it; the way that she looked at him, the way that she spoke of him, when she thought that no one was around to see or hear it. He would never comprehend how someone so devastating could be so pitifully sad – how someone so knowing could be so stupid. She wanted prince charming? Fuck that, fuck prince charming; Marius Pontmercy was nothing more than another guilty, rich boy and if there was one thing that could make the career criminal see red it was guilty rich boys. Montparnasse had built himself out of nothing at all, with broken parts and an expired warrantee, and surely that meant he was better than that oblivious, lovesick, puppy dog.
”Stop staring.” He snapped coolly, crossing his cigarette thin legs gracefully as he angled his head to toss cerise pout Eponine’s way, Montparnasse huffed impatiently while he brought willowy fingers up to smooth out wrinkles in his trousers that weren’t really there. ”It makes you look terribly plain.”
