Renée sometimes thought the city resembled one of those over-the-hill harlots, with messy hair and blackened teeth stumps, too much powder and rouge covering up the spots and blotches on her face, her skin yellow from some untreated disease, coughing up spit and baring her teeth at anyone who dared to come too close to her pitch. Her shrill voice was the sound of the streets, the crates and rags in the alleys the tattered clothes covering her bony body. Greasy, sleazy, too loud and too vain, instilling revulsion and not trust, and yet she gave you what you needed and deep inside you knew you couldn't live without her.
Maybe she could distract one of them long enough to knick something. Ponine was better at that than she was but it couldn't be that hard. Right? She spotted the msn first. He looked like a gentleman of some sort, though not a lord or anything so grand. Maybe a very rich merchant then. Maybe he would give her some money and she wouldn't have to try to pinch anything. That would be better. Easier. Then she saw the pastry he held and licked her lips. Perhaps he could convince him to give it to her. A pickpocket she was, and a good one, but taking things out of somebody's hand? That was impossible.
She walked up to him, reaching up to tug on bs coat. "Excuse me, Monsieur? Could you spare a coin?" She pointed to the pastry seller. "I'd like to buy one."