He carefully shuffled his way through the clothes, lifting his legs up high enough so he wouldn't drag them on his bare feet.

"I like your accent." He confessed shyly and settled down next to her with all the grace of an off balance gorilla falling onto his rump.

"I still don't think you're that bad." He knew bad. Drake was bad. Caine was bad. He was bad. Eponine was just...confused.