Éponine.

Except Éponine, she can touch him whenever because she's a bad bitch.

A long sigh slips past her margins, frame tensing considerably. "He tried to /touch/ you?"

At that, a frown adorns her contour. "What'd the fucker do?"

Attempts a chuckle, her way of trying to lift his spirits. "You mean, montyparsnips?"

Almost stumbles backwards, arms catching the male. "So, what's with you?"

Uh, sure. Extends her arms for the male. Come closer if you wish.

WHAT DOES HE WANT?

— arms reading about to receive the flyers from @VICTOlRE.

[@VICTOlRE] — and boring. She held this atop her visage for a minuscule second before allowing a goofy grin to take hold of her brims, —

"When am I ever not serious, @VICTOlRE?" She inquired, he'd expression faltering into one that was akin to a dead body; features slack —

— snapped upwards to perform a salute to @VICTOlRE, a playful grin adorning her osculates. "Private Éponine reporting for flyer duty, sir!"

[@VICTOlRE] — which she doesn't have. Eliciting a sigh, her cranium bobs into a nod and dark tresses followed suit. Suddenly, a hand —

Hesitance was written across her countenance, although it related to given effort of passing out flyers rather than a fear of @VICTOlRE, —

[@VICTOlRE] — shaking her cranium, body coming to lean against the newly stilled table. "Jesus, Enj. I was only fucking with you."

[@VICTOlRE] — wanted to wither into herself some, but that wasn't her style. Huffing outwards, she lifts her frame upwards before —

Oh shit. She blinked. Once, twice. Three times. The expression painted on @VICTOlRE's visage was one of unmistakeable anger, and she —

[@VICTOlRE] — weeks?"

[@VICTOlRE] Her brims pursed together, optics momentarily darting away. Oops. "Ohh! Is that what you were droning on an on about for —

[@VICTOlRE] — a thing?"

[@VICTOlRE] A sarcastically sheepish grin adorned her lips, lithe shoulders hiking upwards into a nonchalant shrug. "Oh. That's actually —