Tibby's was unusually crowded, though not unexpectedly, on account of the fact that the temperature was steadily dropping as the sun continued to set, and even a busy restaurant was a welcome refuge from the cold. Nevertheless, the number of people inside the small establishment was surprising to the two men who walked in, appearing to be out-of-towners by their looks, clean, well-dressed (or, at least the first was, the elder of the two, in a long black overcoat and fedora-style hat), and obviously well-moneyed. The younger seemed not quite as distinguished as the older, though it was understandable by the age that showed in his face, still clean-shaven - there was no way he could have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three. He looked apathetic, bored even, as he looked lethargically around the tightly packed room, although he was fingering something rather inconspicuously in his pocket. The other one, the elder, took off his hat so he could scan the crowd of people more easily, making it clear that he was more invested in finding who they were looking for. "Where is he?" the man muttered, almost irritably. He almost instantly received his answer as the door opened, letting in a gust of cold wind that caused several people to complain.

The two who entered seemed to be an unlikely pair. One was a man, who looked about thirty, still handsome yet with something tired in his face; on his arm, a pretty, if gangly, girl no older than eighteen. But the two were talking and laughing, and from across the room, the man still holding his hat caught sight of exactly who he wanted to see. Taking the second man by the arm, he worked his way through the crowd, ending in front of the pair who had just entered and were now leaning against the wall. "Jack Kelly?" he asked incredulously, to which the other man nodded, and then did a double take.

"Davey?" Jack exclaimed. David laughed at the use of his childhood nickname and hugged his old friend. It took a few moments for Jack to realize that the younger man standing a step behind David was an old friend, too. "And Les?"

Les Jacobs grinned. "Cowboy."

"Nobody's called me that in years, kid."

Kit was just beginning to feel out of place when the attention was finally drawn to her. "So, who's the girl, Jack? A little young for you, ain't she?" Les teased.

The girl turned a soft shade of pink and Jack rolled his eyes. "You boys ever meet Kloppman, old guy who ran the lodging house back in the days of the strike?" They nodded. "He died eight years or so back, left me his granddaughter to take care of. David and Les, this is Katherine Malloy."

"Kit," she corrected quickly.

Jack laughed. "So, it's Doctor Jacobs now, huh?" he asked, as they were brought to a table.

"Yup." David smiled across the table at Jack. "And I'm back for good now; I got a job at the hospital a few blocks down."

The conversation through dinner stayed mostly the same, just old friends reminiscing - Jack talking about the current newsies, David telling stories from his internship at the hospital in Massachusetts, Les adding appropriate, often sarcastic, comments when necessary. Kit was completely unsure as to why Jack even asked her to come. She had nothing to contribute to the continuing dialogue, nor did she know enough about Jack to make jokes about him, like Les did about David. But when finally the plates were cleared and the waiter brought them each a coffee - "My treat," David insisted - Jack stood up. "I'm gonna go outside for a smoke. Come with?" He gestured to David, who seemed to sense that Jack's intention was not just to smoke a cigarette in the frigid weather, and so he put his hat on his head, his coat on, and followed his friend outside.

"You don't smoke?" Kit asked Les, as soon as Jack and David were out the door.

"Sure I do," Les replied without looking at her. He seemed to be preoccupied, which was confusing to Kit until she realized that Les's coffee mug was no longer on the table, but beneath it in his lap; he had removed a silver flask from his pocket and was pouring some of its contents into the coffee. She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing a little.

"So why ain't you out smoking with them, then?"

He sighed and sipped the now-spiked coffee. "You don't get it, do you? I was nine years old when Jack first met me. And he doesn't see me any differently now. To him, I'm still that dumb little kid I used to be, who worshipped the ground he stepped on. He knows full well I would've done anything back then to be just like him."

"But you're not."

He smiled. "But I'm not."

"So, can I ask you a question then?"

"Shoot."

"Can I have a cigarette?"

Les looked at her strangely. "Why don't you just ask Jack when he gets back in?"

"Uncle Jack doesn't let me smoke."

He snorted, tempted to make a witty comment about her name for Jack, but decided against it. "You smoke anyway, though?"

"Yeah." Les handed her a cigarette across the table and she pocketed it for later.

"You do a lot of things you ain't supposed to, kid?"

"Some." She paused. "But that can't be all that bad, 'cause from what I know, you ain't supposed to be putting liquor in your coffee."

A smile began to form on Les's face as Kit smirked. "Not like there's a grownup telling me not to." Her grin faded, and his smile widened. "I'm surprised you don't do a lot more listening to your Uncle Jack." She scowled at his mocking. "When I was a kid, he wasn't someone you wanted to cross."

"It ain't like he ever tells me anything!" She half-shouted; had her voice been any louder, she would have drawn attention from other tables. His eyebrows raised, so she calmed herself before continuing. "I've lived with him for eight years, and all he's told me is what I could've heard from any newsie in the damn city."

"And this is the part where you ask me to tell you what you don't know, isn't it?" he said, more of a statement than a question. The look on her face told him that the answer was obvious. He sighed. "I wish I could help you, kid. But I couldn't do that to him." She looked part-crushed, part like a typical sullen teenage girl. He liked the pout on her face - it gave him an idea. "Here's the deal. You come see me tomorrow - the address is on the letter my brother sent Jack - and we'll work something out. Sound good?"

She agreed without a second thought.

---

"You never told me about the girl, Jack."

Jack looked startled for a second, nearly burning his finger with the match as he lit his cigarette. "Huh? Oh, Kit." He took a long drag, then offered David one - but David had already lit his own. "Well, I got her just a little after you left. It wasn't important. Besides, you didn't tell me that Les was still living with you."

David heaved a deep sigh. "He didn't, for a while. But he got in some bad trouble: gambling debts, keeping company with the wrong people, you know. The last thing Mama asked me before she died was to take care of him, and so...I guess that's what I'm doing."

"How's Sarah?"

It was a question David had seen coming, but even after these eight years, the tone of Jack's voice when he spoke of her was hard for him to hear. "Sarah's...good. She's happy. She and Andrew just had their third child, you know."

The words were like a knife to the stomach. Jack had not known, not even that the two had any children at all. "Wow," was all he could choke out, his voice sounding hoarse. "Three, huh?" He was so distracted that he did not notice his cigarette had burned almost down to a stub.

"C'mon, let's go back in," David said as gently as he could. "It's getting late, and I do start work tomorrow."

"Dave?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I'm glad you're home."

David smiled, and - somewhat awkwardly - hugged his friend. "Me too."