The boys huddled shoulder to shoulder around the small table were quiet and intense; eyes were drawn low and focused upon the two boys at opposite ends and the young girl between them, the only ones who still held cards in their hands. The pot between them had grown in the passing hours and as boy after boy lost their week's earnings or dropped out in fear of losing the rest, the three final newsies were left to duke it out for the win.

One was of the famed Manhattan borough and was the biggest gambler around, save for the girl to his left. His hair was inky black, thick beneath his cap, and a cigar hung limply from the corner of his mouth. The other two were of Brooklyn, one being the ever-feared leader of the notorious borough and the other a young woman who, at first glance, could easily be mistaken as his girl, what with the way his idle hand played lost melodies upon her upper thigh and his eyes raked up and down her form. His eyes were of the most piercing blue, skin Irish cream pulled taught over long, lean muscle. He had a keen smirk of a smile which he had perfected to be terrifying and mysterious, sexy and alluring. The young girl, the only female newsie their side of Harlem, was as sly as she was gorgeous. Her brown hair fell wavy and tousled down her back, drawing eyes over her endless curves and milky white skin. Her eyes glinted brightly in the dip light of the room, a swirling mix of blues and greens that would take hours of intense study to define precisely. It was all the boy sitting behind her could do to keep himself from reaching for her, to restrain himself from winding his hands around her hips and laving kisses down her neck and shoulders. His hands fisted tightly in effort.

Far from the game, at a low table on the other side of the room, two boys sat perched on the worn, upholstered couch, mourning the loss of their money at the hands of the three gamblers still engaged at the other end of the room. The younger of the two sat awkwardly on the right, a beer delicately palmed in his hands. The older sat too his left, watching the game from a distance with only mock interest.

"I can't believe I lost." The younger boy whined. His face sagged in sadness as he drew another sip of his drink.

"Look, you're fresh meat! Just got here a week ago! You couldn't have expected to beat Brooklyn when you're fresh off the streets, kid." The older responded, his eyes never leaving the game. The younger boy lifted his eyes in the same direction.

"Which ones Brooklyn?" the younger boy asked timidly, eyes cast down in embarrassment.

"The blue eyes, kid. His named Spot, and don't forget it, unless you wanna be back on the streets faster than you can say 'On the grounds of Brooklyn.'" The elder sighed. They'd been over names and faces more than once, and at the rate that his young apprentice was catching on, he'd be back on the streets in no time. The younger boy nodded and took another sip of his beer.

"The dark hair is Race." The fledging newsies' words came as a half question half statement.

"Now you got it." The older boy shrugged his arm over the younger's shoulders and pointed to the Italian. "He's Manhattan. That's us, too. So you better remember. And the other is Velvet."

"The girl?"

"Yes the girl, dumb ass. What, she look like a guy to you?" The younger shrugged his shoulders and nursed his beer a bit more. "You're gunna get drunk real quick if you keep that up." The elder pulled the beer from the boy's hands and placed it gently at the floor between his feet for later.

"Why do they call her Velvet?"

"Well, supposedly its cause her voice is like velvet, beautiful and soft, but a lot of the boys say its cause red velvet is Spot's favorite." They both looked towards the table again, where Spot's hand continued to lightly draw up and down her thigh. He leaned in close to her, his eyes never leaving his cards, and parted his lips slightly, placing them ever so lightly to the open plane of her collar bone. His lips pressed against her skin gently, distractingly, as he drew an arm to lay across her shoulders and absent mindedly pushed another handful of coins into the pot with the other.

Her lips pulled tighter over her teeth as Spot continued flay kisses farther along the lines of her neck and shoulder. Race paid them no attention, finding the cards fanned in his hands to be of much more interest. Velvet's fingers twitched slightly on her own cards as Spot's arm moved slowly from her shoulder to her waist.

"Pair." Race said unhappily, throwing his cards face down on the table, the bluff he had been keeping up the whole game now evident. Spot smiled his cocky smirk again.

"Straight." He flipped his cards over with his free hand, his eyes meeting Race's.

"Flush." Velvet said bluntly, pushing herself up from the table abruptly. Spot was forced back slightly by her quick haste, and looked up at her in surprise before rising to join her, his smirk returning in seconds.

"Congrats, baby." Spot whispered sultrily in her ear as she straightened up from scooping her earnings off the table, his hand winding back around her hips and his nose brushing against her cheek.

"I'm not your baby." She snapped back in the same hushed tone, teeth gritted together. She shoved the young boy slightly in an attempt to remove his hand from her waist, succeeding only in replacing his smirk with a grimace of anger.

"Who the hell says you aren't?" He snapped angrily, tightening his grip on her hips. She shoved him away harder this time and quickly crossed the floor of the now crowded lodging home, approaching the couch where the two boys still sat talking. She took no time in sliding onto the lap of the older boy, her arms circling around his neck to support her.

"Blink." She cooed, smiling at the surprised newsboy whose cheeks had suddenly taken on a much brighter hue. His hands moved of their own accord, one latching around her waist to further support her, the other finding purchase on the firm muscle of her thigh.

"Velvet." He smiled up at her, pleasantly surprised by her sudden presence. The younger boy stared at the two in awe.

"And who's your friend?" She asked, turning to look at the boy beside them, who quickly closed his gaping jaw and coughed into his closed fist to cover his stare.

"He's fresh meat." Blink responded, never letting his eyes leave her face. "They call him Otter."

"Otter." She repeated and slid one hand to rest on the young boy's thigh. She turned her eyes back to Blink, smiling at him coyly. His cheeks flushed brighter as he met her gaze, giving her a nervous smile of his own.

"You're so cute when you're nervous, Blink." She cooed sweetly. She swiftly moved both hands to his chest and leaned forward slightly, her lips parting delicately. She placed them gently on his jaw, smiling against his soft, freshly shaven skin. Blink's eyes snapped shut, his lips barely holding back a moan. Her lips trailed closer to his own as his eyes snapped open to meet the glare of a deeply angered Brooklyn king.

"Get up." He growled angrily and gripped Velvet's arm tightly. She scowled up at him, but before she could snap back he yanked her to her feet and pulled her towards the door. He took one look back at the stunned Blink and Otter before slamming the door behind him and stomping out into the cold night.