The mothers called them 'gangs.' Really, it was just a bunch of boys against one another. The closest thing they had to a gang was Ivan and his crew, but they splintered off and reformed weekly. Gilbert had clashed with Ivan a couple of times; Ivan lived near the deserted woods, and usually ambushed Gilbert.

So, Gilbert focused on the others. The weaker ones—usually Feliks or Toris, if he wasn't back with Ivan. Had Gilbert not forced his little brother back into the arms of the orphanage, he was sure the two of them could have taken over the whole city.

Well, almost the whole city. There was always the Girl.

Gilbert lived near the bars. His pale blond, almost white hair was usually covered in dirt and grime. He scavenged the ground after bar fights, looking for lost valuables. More than once, he had to fight off one of the blundering adults to snitch wallets or watches. He was savage compared to the other boys, who lived near the apartments or markets.

But the markets are where Gilbert wanted to be.

Today, he walked around Rose's Cantina, cracking his knuckles. It was too early in the day to beg money off of drunkards, but he was starving. He peered over toward the markets, wondering if Toris was back with Ivan. With one last pat on the cantina's doorway, Gilbert made his way through the tightly packed crowd.

Men and women eyed him suspiciously. The blond was beginning to become too tall and wide to walk around unnoticed. This was an advantage fighting other boys, not so when it came to pickpocketing. Gilbert snarled at the adults, head down.

Finally. "Oi, Toris," Gilbert called, catching sight of the brunet lounging by a fruit stand. "Got anything good for me?" He grinned, padding closer and pulling out his pocket knife.

Toris stood, clenching his fists. "Gilbert, I don't want any trouble…" He took a step back. "Plus, I think—"

Gilbert laughed, forcing Toris back into an alley way by the stand. It was dark, cold, and more importantly, a dead-end. He played with his knife.

"Well, now that you and Ivan broke up, I just want a bit of your money and food," Gilbert used his height, leering down at Toris. "I mean, it's an awful lot for one little boy. I ne—" His voice cracked. Gilbert coughed. "I need it more than you."

Toris opened his mouth to respond.

And then someone kicked Gilbert in the small of his back. He fell on his face, letting out an embarrassingly high yell. He floundered in the dirt before managing to flip onto his back, squinting at the figure at the entrance of the alley. Toris trotted around to stand with him.

"What are you doing with that knife, Gilbert? You wouldn't know how to cut a piece of cheese with it, let alone Toris."

… With her.

Gilbert scrambled to his feet, puffing out his chest. She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Her slingshot was in one hand, her other hand resting on her hip, long brown hair tied back into a professional, if untidy, bun.

"Elizabeta," Gilbert said, crossing his arms. He made his voice deeper. "Shouldn't you be buying dresses or something?"

She laughed, taking a step forward. "Still upset you had no idea I was a girl until a month ago, Gilbert?" The smile fell off her face. "And I could beat you up and down this street wearing a dress, and you know it." She paused. "And I'd look good doing it."

Gilbert swallowed, throat suddenly very dusty. He laughed, shaking his head. "Please, girly—"

In a flash, the slingshot was aimed at his face, smooth river stone ready to take out an eye. Her hands were unwavering and her face deadly serious. Gilbert automatically held his hands up.

"Call me 'girly' again, Gilbert," her face twitched into a smile. "I dare you."

Gilbert sucked in air through his teeth. Then, he kicked sand up, right into Elizabeta's eyes. He lunged, knocking her over and pinning her to the ground. He laughed in her face.

"Girly."

He had forgotten about Toris until he kicked Gilbert in the shoulder.

The blond yelped, arm recoiling. Then, Elizabeta was on top, Gilbert's dagger pressed to his own throat. Elizabeta smiled down at him. God, for a girl, she could sure hold his ass down. Gilbert pouted.

"No fair, there's two of you."

Elizabeta snorted. "There's only one of me. Now, listen here," she wiggled the dagger in front of Gilbert's face. "You leave Toris alone. He already has Ivan breathing down his back, he doesn't need your scrawny ass chasing him down, either."

Gilbert would have protested, but that dagger was waving ever so persuasively near his rugged features.

"Fine," he muttered. He mocked sighed, rolling his head back slightly. "Too bad. I bet you'll miss seeing me."

Elizabeta laughed. "Please. I have a thing for blonds, but you…" She hopped up, foot pressing gently against Gilbert's throat. "You're probably the most disgusting boy I have ever laid eyes on."

Gilbert nodded, considering. "So, what you're saying is, if I wash my hair… There's a chance?" He smirked.

Now, what Gilbert had expected was Elizabeta to maybe give him a new scar, or kick him in the side of the head. Instead, she cocked her head, eyes flicking down Gilbert's body before making eye contact once again.

Gilbert felt his face warm up. "What—" His voice cracked.

Elizabeta laughed, dropping the dagger. It landed by Gilbert's head, blade sticking into the dirt. She took her foot off his throat, and by the time Gilbert had grabbed his knife and sat up, she and Toris were gone.

The blond snorted, standing up and brushing the dirt off his clothes. "Stupid girls."