“Truly?” Eponine’s stomach knots. She used to be her Mama’s little princess but she has longed for a man to treat her that way. Like she matters and he loves her and would look after her. If Spike picks up on the longing, the jealousy in her voice, the way she suddenly can’t make eye contact with him, he will know that love, not fear, is the way to control and manipulate Eponine.

She grins at the applause, looking back at him.
“Me, I am like a cockroach, Sir. Nobody wants me but I am here, and when you try to kill me, well. I ain’t a vampire but I am every bit as undead as you. I think - and I know I don’t look nothing - but I am hard to kill.”

She shrugs. “But if you want my blood, I don’t mind. You can drink it. I told you I like pain. But I want a present in return. Shoes. A corset. Pretty dresses. Help me, Sir, and you can have my blood.”