“Ah! Bonjour, Bonjour!! Please, come in! Come in!” Thénardier gestures grandly, practically pulling the stranger inside from the cold

Snow fell heavily down into the streets of Paris, and beggars say huddled in rags and paupers wandered through the streets heading towards their small homes. The times were unforgiving, and the weather even more so. But at least there’d always be money. And there’d always be alcohol.

Thénardier smiles in a friendly enough manner, but the scheming within his eyes tells another story. He looks to his wife, jerking his head to her before turning back to the customer with a smile. Madam Thénardier hurries behind the bar and into the back of the inn.

Thénardier looks to his son Gavroche, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Prepare our best room. Keep your sisters out of the way.” He whispers to the young boy, patting his head before hurrying him on his way.

“May I get you a drink? Perhaps a seat by the fire? Please, let me take your cloak.” He takes the cloak off of the other’s shoulders, covertly slipping his hands into the fabric’s pockets to take anything with potential value. Thénardier saw everything as a business opportunity.

“You must be freezing.”