"Oh my god," Johanna says, to nothing and to no one, "what's it look like I'm doing. I'm cutting my hair. Is everybody dumb?"

She turns a look back on Eponine--more of a glare than anything else, jaw set, hair shorn all uneven just under her chin. There's a moment where Eponine has to languish under that glare, and then, abruptly, sharply, Johanna turns the knife around and offers it to her, hilt first.

"Think you can do a better job?"