Slouched on the couch with his legs stretched out and heels digging into the carpet, Bobby laughed at the show on TV. He didn't look at the kid when he finally entered the room; he instead sipped his beer and held the controller in his lap lazily.

He'd known the kid would come in and sit down. He'd had no doubt in his mind. He knew the kid felt threatened by him, and although he wasn't proud of that, he also didn't mind the advantage it gave him to know he would listen. He didn't feel like running after him out the door, which he'd feel obligated to if the kid chose that path.

Jack sat down lightly on the couch, at the opposite end from Bobby, and glanced at the TV briefly. He kept Bobby in his view at all times, still unsure of his intentions and not willing to let his guard down. Bobby wasn't paying much attention to him, laughing out loud at the television at some stand up comic and drinking his beer. Was this the same guy Angel and Jeremiah had mentioned earlier?

A commercial came on and Bobby took a deep, tired breath, leaning his head back into the couch and turning it to view Jack. The kid was still sitting at the edge of the seat and quickly averted his eyes when Bobby met his gaze. He sat stiffly, clasping his hands in his lap, suddenly nervous at the attention a commercial break brought him. Evelyn had put this kind of direct attention on him earlier, and that had made him nervous too.

"What'd you need the money for, Jack?" Bobby asked.

Jack pressed his lips together, pausing before answering. Was this a test? He was having a hard time reading Bobby's tone, and he wasn't sure whether there was a right or wrong answer. Normally he would simply lie, but it was hard to when the man had caught him red handed. He couldn't incriminate himself more, but he hadn't been punished yet.

There was no sense in not responding so slowly he turned his head to look at Bobby again. "The bus."

"The bus?" Bobby echoed. "So your plan was to find some money, steal it, and run off? That sounds easy enough."

Jack shrugged. This Bobby person was kind of hard to answer.

"You just get here today, Jack?" Bobby asked.

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Who was so terrible to you that you're leaving already? Are Jerry and Angel that horrible?"

Jack shook his head. "I…" There were a lot of answers to that. Jerry and Angel had nothing to do with it really. But he'd thought of a lot of things. The band room. The bus. The lack of sleep. The chance to just be on his own. The chance to get out of Detroit, the shittiest city in the world. "I don't know."

"You realize you should thank me for running into you before you tried to find a bus," Bobby persisted. "Because there ain't a bus for miles around here that runs this time of night, and I'm not sure a scrawny white boy like you would make it too far around here by yourself either. So I can tell you're a thinker. What do you say?"

Jack knew he wasn't a thinker. Anthony had told him that a dozen times. Would he really be where he was if he thought things out? But he also wouldn't be here if he couldn't take care of himself. "I could make it."

"Oh, I'm sure you could, kiddo. How old are you?"

Jack felt belittled. "Eleven," he admitted.

"Yeah, you'd make it real fucking far," Bobby muttered.

"Are you going to tell the old lady?' Jack asked. "'Cause if you do, then—"

"Then what? And old lady?" Bobby echoed. "Don't call ma an old lady, kid. She wouldn't like that one bit. Am I gonna tell her what? That you've been scrounging through her house and stealing from her purse, you moron? Well it was a pretty stupid plan anyway."

"There's no reason to tell her. I didn't take anything." Not technically. Jack started to feel nervous.

"Are you really scared of her?" Bobby wasn't sure how someone could be scared of ma. Even this kid who looked like he was scared of his own reflection. This kid had met the woman, even if it was for just one day, and so he couldn't really be scared of her.

"She'll hurt me. If she finds out I stole from her," Jack persisted. "Please don't tell her."

"Now what would make you think she'd hurt you?"

"Because." Jack looked at him incredulously. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Because," Bobby answered, rolling his eyes. "Look, I'm the only one that woulda been that angry about you stealing from ma, and if I'd wanted to, I woulda already whipped you when I found you. And I didn't, did I?"

Jack shook his head. He hadn't.

"Damn right. I've been a fucking gentleman. So then? Calm the fuck down."

"Just don't tell her then…?" Jack whispered.

"Kid, even if I told her nothing would come of it." Bobby should his head. "I really don't think you've figured out ma yet. I know where you're coming from, but let me give you the summarized version of this house: there is nowhere you should rather be. So don't go and fuck it up by getting on a neighborhood bus and making them send your sorry ass back to wherever you came from."

Jack just chewed on his thumbnail. Anthony came to mind. What if they told her he was stealing things and then she told Anthony too? What would Anthony do? The old lady might let him know and then what would happen? Had he already fucked it up within twenty four hours? It wasn't just leaving this place, which he knew nothing of, but them taking him back, trying to put him somewhere else. Or just giving up on him… Would they put him some place else again?

"Speaking of where you came from, who hurt your arm?" Bobby asked. He saw the kid shrug. "They hurt you anywhere else?" Another shrug. Bobby grew exasperated but reminded himself that there was little to any chance of getting that kind of information out of the kid anyway, especially tonight, so the questions would probably just make him nervous. "Did you win at least?"

"Win what?" Jack asked. He was confused. There was something to win?

"The fight," Bobby replied. Then he shook his head. "Sorry, that was a joke. A really not funny joke, the reason I never tell any." He was making an effort, but in addition to be exhausted, he felt like he was still talking to himself.

There was the sound of a door opening upstairs, and Jack jumped to his feet. Somebody else was up? Somebody would check to see if he was in his room, and somebody would come downstairs, and this Bobby person would tell them what he did… He probably left the bedroom door open. Had he left it open? Would they notice?

"You are a high strung son of a bitch, aren't you?" Bobby said in amusement, watching Jack's expression. "Sit your ass down. Someone gets up to use the bathroom and you have a coronary. Jesus Christ. Ma has her work cut out for her this time."

Jack turned to look at him, and then sensed his frustration and immediately sat back down again and averted his eyes.

"How old are you again?" Bobby asked.

"Eleven."

Bobby just nodded and didn't respond. The show had come back on TV, and his attention returned to the screen. It was getting late. He let out a deep yawn after a few minutes and looked over at the kid. Jack was watching TV at least, with a slightly comatose look on his face that Bobby recognized as exhaustion. At least he didn't look as jumpy.

The show ended within fifteen minutes, and Bobby had finished his beer in half that time. He wanted another one, but between the effort it took to get up from the couch and the consideration of leaving this kid sitting by himself for five minutes and where he might wander to…

"Ready for bed?" Bobby asked aloud. "You tired?"

"Yeah," came the response. "Okay."

"Okay then." Bobby pushed himself up off the couch and stretched his arms over his head. "Come on."

Jack got up and watched Bobby turn off the TV. He followed him out of the family room and towards the stairs. Bobby sensed him following and didn't look at him until he reached the bag lying at the bottom of the stairs. "What's this?"

"Mine." Jack moved to pick it up.

"You really woulda hurt ma's feelings, that's for sure," Bobby said with a laugh, watching him. "Come on. Get upstairs."

Jack started up the stairs, quietly. Almost as quietly as he came down. He didn't want to wake up anybody else upstairs.

Bobby was more amused by this kid than anything else. In a way he was reminded of himself, and on the other hand he just kept hearing in the back of his mind that he didn't have time for this and couldn't believe ma had another kid. He put up with the slow, delicate steps up the stairs for about five seconds.

"Alright, there is no tiptoeing in this house, you fairy," Bobby muttered in exasperation. "Just walk up the stairs." He himself was walking up behind Jack with heavy footsteps. His voice was quiet, but he was not going to make a special effort going up the stairs. "Come on."

Bobby walked up the stairs quickly, taking two at a time with each stride and passing Jack with a slight brush on the arm.

Jack wasn't sure what to make of this person, whom Evelyn, Angel, and Jeremiah had all mentioned earlier. Who was he? Did he live here? He was confused whether or not to be scared of him and what his intentions were. There wasn't much room for making up his own mind though, and Jack followed him to the bedroom. Your room, Jack reminded himself. He dropped his bag back in the corner.

"Do you live here?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, you could say that," Bobby replied. He crossed his arms over his chest, standing in the doorway. "I'm an on and off resident. I might be around more often now."

"Okay," Jack answered.

"Look, let's make a deal, okay?" Bobby began as he walked over to look out the window. It was so dark that he couldn't have been able to see much. He turned and looked at Jack, who was giving him a wary look. "The deal is you give it a week."

"Give what a week?" Jack asked.

"This place."

"Oh." What did that mean? He didn't really have the choice there did he? "But what if the old lady—I mean, what if Ms. Mercer—what if she changes her mind before the week?"

"You planning on giving her a reason to?" Bobby asked.

Jack shook his head. But he'd never planned to give people reasons before. And it was true that he would probably last a week even if he did. Most people would at least try using a belt on him before completely giving up.

"I can't think of anything you could do anyway," Bobby said. "Anything that I probably didn't do already anyway." He smirked. "Anyway, you'll give it a week?"

"A week?"

"Just put up with it for one week and then decide if you want to try to reenact tonight. In which case I'll give you a couple dollars and a head start, but no promises. How's that sound?"

"What if I don't?"

"Well, then I don't exactly give you a head start."

Jack shrugged. If agreeing would end the conversation, then he would certainly agree. "Sure." Besides, if he broke the agreement, and made it, it wasn't like he would see any of these people again. What kind of repercussions could there be? "One week isn't a big deal."

"Okay, good. After a week you'll be on my side anyway. Now, I am off to sleep. Don't tell ma I scared you."

"Good night…" Jack replied.

Bobby disappeared and Jack walked over to shut the door quietly. He turned the lock and then walked back over to sit on the bed. He still felt the uneasiness in his stomach from when he'd run into Bobby and made a great first impression. He was more tired than anything else, and this outweighed his apprehension.

Might as well try sleep for one night.