#borninthedocks

One should be careful when navigating unfamiliar territory. This is a lesson Hamlet has yet to learn. And here in what seems to be colloquially known as the "bad part of town", the young prince would stick out like a sore thumb if there were anyone else in plain sight to witness it. 

So lost in the self-created feeling of solitude, he almost doesn't see the other until a dim slice of streetlight illuminates their coat. When he catches their eye, Hamlet raises his hand to garner their attention.

     "Hey, have you got a smoke?"

     He knew it from the electricity in the air, from the shadows in his fever dreams, and the whispers in the wind: the revolution was doomed to fail. Every moment he spent in their company, their jester and their skeptic, was another nail in the coffins they'd never see. 

     Harbinger. The curse he'd known since he was a boy. Where there would be tragedy, Grantaire was drawn with a gravity he could deny no more than the air in his lungs. Disaster and ruin were ever on his heels and yet nothing could change it. His words constantly fell on deaf ears. And who would believe him now? Just a drunk, lost to the madness of spirits and opiates. 

     And yet he couldn't look away, couldn't force himself to leave. These boys with their dreams and their hope would die violent, bloody deaths, and still he sat with them, drank with them, called them his friends. 

     Harbinger. Masochist. The two seemed forever intertwined. 

   He looked young, perhaps too young to call to, but there had been so few customers that night, so little money lined those pockets of hers. Fantine needed the money, Cosette needed the money, and so she emerged from the shadows as he was about to pass, a smile forced onto her face. She was like a ghost, almost silent in her steps, her face an almost sickly palour. 

     It was the end of another  meeting  at the Musain, and though      the afternoon  of debate had tired  Enjolras,  he knew his work      for the day was  hardly finished.  There were   still speeches to      be written, plans to be made, demonstrations to be organized...      the  list  seemed endless at  times,  but it  would  all  be worth      it,  he  knew.

                        From where he stood he looked around the café, surveying the                         familiar faces -- students, for the most part. Their numbers were                         yet small, but growing by the day. There was one among them                         however, that Enjolras could not place for the life of him, whose.                           eyes  Enjolras now felt on him. 

OMG PENNY OMG!