Race angrily stomped to Brooklyn so that he could confront Spot Conlon. Earlier that day the Manhattan newsies learned the harsh realities of participating in a strike when their small revolution was crushed by the bulls and Crutchie was dragged screaming from the square by the bulls.
Race blamed Spot. He couldn't stop thinking, If Spot had just been here, if he had just supported me then none of this would have happened. Crutchie would still be here and not rotting alone in the Refuge. Actually he's not alone, that might be even worse. Crutchie's tough, but a disability makes you a target in a place as cruel as the refuge. The guards don't care that it's reprehensible to hurt a disabled boy; they only see another potential victim who won't be able to fight back. If Spot had just fucking helped us then the other burrows would have followed suit and we could have actually fucking won.
He banged on the Brooklyn Lodging House's door. "Spot Conlon come here right now!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. The door was opened but not by Spot; a short newsie who looked around ten opened the door.
"What'd you want?"
"I want to talk to Spot, isn't it obvious?"
"He's upstairs."
"Great." Race shoved past the boy rather rudely, as he ran up the stairs he felt bad for his abhorrent manners but was more focused on chewing Spot out. Race knocked on the door and silently waited for Spot to open it.
Spot greeted him, "How'd your strike go?"
"It was terrible," Race's spat in a poisonous tone.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to see it through." Spot wasn't rejecting him for cruelty's sake, rather he sensed Race's rage and felt defensive.
"We might if you would just fucking help us. They got Crutchie." Race was trying to keep his eyes from betraying his sadness but he failed.
Spot took one look at the sorry state of his boyfriend and knew that it was time to stop being Spot Conlon, leader of Brooklyn, and start being Spot Conlon, sensitive boyfriend. He wrapped his arms around Race caringly. "I'm sorry."
Race was stunned, he never thought he'd actually ever get to hear the words. He sniffed, "Does this mean you'll support the strike?"
Spot didn't break off the hug, "Yeah it does babe."
Race leaned into Spot and carefully shut his bedroom door, before bowing forward to push a gentle kiss onto Spot's lips.