Not a Dog's Daughter

Well, the weather was doing strange things again and, as usual, Éponine was out in it. She was distinctly not happy about this, particularly since her work shift was over and she had someplace warm and . . . well, 'dry' wasn't exactly a concern right now, but she hadn't been able to pass up the price she was offered for a private delivery. It was far from the worst thing she'd ever had to do for money, anyhow.

At least, that was what she'd been telling herself at the beginning of the day. By evening, now that she'd been pelted with enough bits of metal that she was sure she'd have bruises despite her coat, and she'd heard her own voice coming from those bits of metal more times than she'd like (not that she remembered saying half those things) she was somewhat less convinced.

"A fine job, keeping lookout barefoot in the snow!" came from the fairly sizable cog that bounced off her shoulder and fell into her mailbag. Éponine suppressed a grimace, fished the thing out, and tossed it away unceremoniously before continuing on her way.

[OOC: Yeah, I couldn't pass up yet another opportunity to use my rain icons. Or to take advantage of the random event for my own nefarious purposes. >.> Personal-journal-ed for nefariousness; open, though, after the initial thread!

ETA: As a warning, the thread in this post contains several references to past abuse.]