Disclaimer: Newsies and all characters from the movie are properties of Disney.

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Listening

Skittery reached the Lodging House with great difficulty. The storm hadn't just not passed, it had gotten stronger. The snow hit his exposed face like a million needles and when he tried to block the stinging icicles with his hand, his fingers became so numb that he was sure they would break off from his hand. By the time he stepped through the entrance to the Duane Street Newsboys Lodging House, he was covered all over in white snow. He dusted off the particles at the doorway and removed his brown cap to find that a mountain had formed on his head while he made the trek from Tibby's. Skittery placed the cap on a lone table by the window. He then proceeded to remove his tweed coat, but his numb hands reacted painfully to touch. He succeeded eventually, draping the coat on the back of a chair, and blew into his hands to bring the nerves back to life. He looked to the lobby desk behind which Kloppman, the Lodging House manager, sat.

Upon spotting the old man, Skittery stopped in mid-motion, curious. Kloppman himself was oddly frozen; his eyes were glazed, glimmering – he had the look of someone in a trance.

"Hey, Kloppman? Klopps? You alive?" Skittery asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Hmm?" Kloppman snapped back to the present, shaking his head weakly. "Of course I'm alive, you ruffian," he said in his hoarse voice. He removed his glasses and quickly wiped at his eyes. Then he turned his attention back to Skittery and beckoned him closer. When the newsboy obliged, he whispered, "Did you hear that?"

Skittery had no idea what the old man was suddenly referring to. "Hear what?"

"I guess you didn't hear anything then," Kloppman said, sounding a little disappointed.

The newsboy just shrugged, still slightly perplexed, but thought nothing of it. He looked around the Lodging House as he continued blowing into his hands, noticing the differences from when he had left the building just that morning. Another wreath on the east wall. A new poinsettia on Kloppman's desk. Christmas was indubitably Kloppman's favorite holiday. Every year, he took hours each day decorating the Lodging House. Every year, he encouraged the boys to partake in putting ornaments on the tree, which, every year, stood in the same corner of the lobby. And Every Christmas Day, he started the morning serving hot chocolate to the boys. Needless to say, Kloppman liked his traditions.

"You put up more decorations?"

"I did. Found some more old ornaments and things in the basement. Makes the place a little more festive and colorful, I think. Brings out the cheer."

Skittery raised his brows and looked away. "Why bother? You're only going to take them down again in a couple of days. Kind of useless, if you ask me."

Kloppman peered at Skittery over his spectacles. "Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Say," began Kloppman, "why are you here so early, anyway? The dinner begins in a couple of hours, son."

"I just - I wasn't feeling well. Might be getting sick… or something," said Skittery, mumbling the last part, hoping the simple explanation would quell any further questions.

"I see." Kloppman pushed his spectacles over the bridge of his nose and lifted a finger as though he had a brilliant idea. "I know what you need. Wait right there, I'll be right back."

With that Kloppman shuffled to the backroom, which had a small kitchen, and disappeared from view.

Skittery knew what he needed: a change of clothes and a warm bed. His cold and damp trousers were chilling him to the bone. And despite what Kloppman said about the Christmas decorations, Skittery wasn't feeling the cheer. The radiant reds and glimmering greens were drowned out by the cold and the storm outside.

Tumbler's words came back to him then: "But… what'd you get, Skittery?" He couldn't understand why that had upset him. What had he been expecting? He ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his head to try to shake his mind clear. But it seemed like his mind couldn't make any sense of his heart.

Skittery didn't know how long he'd been standing there in the lobby trying to figure himself out, but Kloppman soon reemerged holding a tray with two steaming mugs.

"Coffee?" Skittery asked hopefully.

Kloppman sent him a disgruntled glance. "Boy, where's your sweet tooth?" He set the tray on the desk and handed Skittery a mug. "It's hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate? Isn't it a little early for you to be serving this? Christmas Day is tomorrow." Skittery welcomed the mug, though, relishing in the warmth that it offered.

"Well, you looked like you needed this sooner than later," Kloppman explained, bringing his own mug to his lips. He cleared his throat. "Now, what was it you were saying before? You think you might be getting sick, is that right?"

Skittery nodded dully.

"Might your, uh, sickness have anything to do with the young lady you're romancing? What was her name? Eliza?"

"Ellie," he answered, giving Kloppman Peg's real name. "And I'm not 'romancing' her, Klopps," Skittery assured.

Kloppman chuckled, studying the boy. "Then why are you always following her around?" he asked casually.

Skittery's jaw dropped, about to protest the ludicrous statement. "I don't follow her around," he said defiantly. He sighed. "She's just so dumb sometimes," he said, leaning his back against the desk and facing the window. He watched the snow fall for a moment before continuing. "Someone needs to make sure she doesn't go around the wrong parts of the city, or talk to shady people. Because she does that, you know. She doesn't know anything about being out on the streets."

Kloppman slowly nodded, which Skittery presumed was a sign of understanding.

"She's very lucky to have a friend like you, then," Kloppman commented.

"Yeah, you should tell her that," he mumbled.

"Why do you say that?" he asked. He put his mug aside and flipped open the ledger, which had been laying on the edge of the desk.

"It's nothing," Skittery responded tersely. He rubbed his hands together now, still trying to regain the feeling in his fingers.

"I see," Kloppman said slowly, turning over the ledger pages.

Skittery spied the book and rummaged through his pocket for a nickel. "Here's for tonight," he said, placing the lone silver coin on the desk.

Kloppman glanced at the nickel. "There's no charge for a bunk tonight, Skittery."

He frowned. "Why not?"

The older man smiled gently. "Because it's Christmas Eve, son. It's the spirit of giving."

Skittery scoffed. "More like the spirit of fakery," he muttered.

Kloppman breath stopped short upon hearing the young boy's words. Skittery caught the fleeting expression and thought he'd get it now: a smack on the head and a rattling of defensive words. Skittery prepared himself for the reaction and when none came, he looked questioningly at the Lodging House manager.

Kloppman put his pen down and looked at Skittery thoughtfully. "Is that what you think?"

"Yeah," he answered plainly, shrugging carelessly.

Kloppman shut his ledger and placed his pen carefully on top. He folded his hands gingerly, leaning slightly across the desk.

"You know what I was just thinking? I was thinking, you remind me a lot of myself when I was about your age," he said, his voice barely audible.

Skittery, still resting against the desk, looked over his shoulder at Kloppman. His brows drew together when he saw the look on Kloppman's face. It was a quiet look: his eyes were distant and his forehead bore a few more lines than usual - those of weariness. Skittery didn't say a word, feeling that the man would continue nevertheless.

The look changed suddenly. Kloppman now appeared as though he were struggling, trying to make a decision.

Finally, he asked, "Do you want to hear a story?"

Skittery was taken aback by the question. He saw the set look on Kloppman's face and actually chuckled softly then. "Do I have a choice?"

"No, not really," said Kloppman, walking from behind his desk towards the windows. He pulled up two chairs to the table - which still had Skittery's hat defrosting on top - and sat down slowly. "Have a seat," he said pleasantly, gesturing towards the opposite chair.

Skittery followed suit, grabbing his mug and, with a second thought, picking up Kloppman's mug from the counter as well. He set both on the table.

Kloppman removed his own bowler hat and placed it next to Skittery's cap. He ran his fingers through his cropped white hair, trying to search for the words, trying to decide from where to start. And after several instants, Kloppman began.

"I've never uttered a word of this to anyone, Skittery. Not even to my closest friends growing up. They would have thought me crazy, you understand. And, well, it's a little strange to be talking about this now, because it happened so long ago – when I was about your age, like I said – and on a day almost like this," he said, his eyes shifting to the window.

Skittery followed his line of sight. Just before his eyes adjusted to the darkness outside, he caught the reflection of Kloppman and himself sitting across from one another, both wearing the same melancholy gaze.

"It was just a couple of days before Christmas Eve," Kloppman continued, "and the snow fell like it had never fallen before, with a vengeance. It was one of the worst blizzards the city had ever seen. And back then, there was nothing like this Christmas banquet that the Children's Aid Society is organizing. There was no one to look after us, no guaranteed shelter. So I was just like a lot of you kids: disillusioned. Hardened. I was a kid but didn't have the heart of a kid. And then it happened, in that crazy blizzard of all times and places, I met her…"

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Author's Note: I'm trying to get this done before Christmas rolls around in two days! Thank you stress and Laelyn24 for your awfully kind reviews! They really made my day. :)