Bea had led the swarm of boys back to the warehouse, Allyson being caught up and dragged along. Bea presented what Allyson could only describe as an army's worth of liquor, the bottles all lining the top of an old crate, and she had no idea where they had managed to get it all, though some of the fancier bottles she guessed were nicked from Julia's house. The boys all whooped excitedly, some boldly leaning in to kiss her on the cheek, thanking her. Spot watched the excitement from the top of his palettes, looking as poised as ever.

"Now, now," the crowd all turned in unison to see Elizabeth, her even tone and accent commanding attention. "You all must put on some clothes – we can't all prance around nearly nude."

"I'll put 'em on, only if ya help me outta them later, Liz!" Someone in the crowd had yelled, sending the rest of the newsies into more whistling and laughter. Elizabeth, unperturbed, shooed them all off, and like well-trained dogs, the boys dispersed, off to find their clothing, leaving only Allyson and the other girls standing around.

"What are you here for?" She asked, not meaning to sound as concerned as she did. She did have an idea – the liquor being a large hint as to their intentions – but was still confused; Bea laughed as though it was a silly question, which it maybe was.

"We're here to have a good time, Allyson," Bea said, bouncing with excitement.

Allyson narrowed her eyes at the rows of bottles. "Are you even allowed?"

She had meant 'does Julia know you're all here?' but Rosie seemed to interpret her as being a spoil sport. "What, do we have to ask permission? Spot said it's okay if we turned up with booze, so we turned up with booze." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, though she seemed to direct her attention to Spot. "Even if he hadn't, we would have taken our business elsewhere."

Spot hopped down from the stacked palettes and strode forward, grabbing a bottle off the crate. "As though I would turn away a couple'a pretty girls with free booze."

Bea giggled, batting her eyelashes at Spot, who looked gave her a smug smile. Rosie grabbed a bottle off the crate as well, and tried to pass it to Allyson.

"Here. Go on and relax, huh?" She smiled condescendingly, forcibly wrapping Allyson's hands around the bottle, and patted them gently when it was secured. "You've had a drink before, haven't you?"

"Of course I have," she grumbled, "I'm not a child."

The boys started to return, now fully dressed. Some arrived with arms filled with bottles of their own, distributing them amongst themselves. The warehouse echoed with the excitement of the boys, and the clattering of glass hitting glass.

Blink wandered back into the warehouse, clothed, his hair still rumpled from before. He took in the gathering with some confusion, Allyson only just realizing he hadn't been caught up in the excited crowd that had dragged her into the storage room. He spotted the bottles, eyebrows raised.

"What's goin' on?"

Rosie brightened at the sound of his voice. "Party."

He smirked. "To celebrate what?"

"Nothing!" Bea bounced on her heels, then seemed to think of something – "we're celebrating Spot and Julia making up."

Spot's eyebrows shot up, and he frowned, and looked ready to say something, but the mysterious dark haired girl cut him off.

"They hardly made up, Bea. But if I were to wager, she will eventually sniff us out here. We'll see what happens then."

"Irene!" Elizabeth pulled away from the small crowd of boys she had been entertaining, a chastening look on her face. "You can't get Julia drunk just so she'll be in a better mood - that's cheating."

Irene rolled her eyes and tucked her straight black hair behind her ear. "It's only cheating because you're betting against me."

A few of the boys nearby were snickering, some wanting to add to the betting pool. Rosie pushed through the grouped boys, having opened her bottle, and offered a second one to Blink, who took it happily. They tapped the dark glass together, then took a swig quickly. Allyson looked down at the still-closed bottle crooked in her arm, wishing she could put it down somewhere and forget about it.

When she looked up, Rosie and Blink had disappeared, leaving her surrounded by strangers.

She immediately felt lost in a sea of strangers.

She wandered toward the only landmark she had in the room, but the bottle-crate had been picked clean, only a few corks signifying its former use. She picked one up, then let it fall back to the wooden surface with a dull bounce. She watched as it rolled toward the edge of the crate, then finally tipped off, but before it could hit the floor, someone's hand shot out, deftly catching it.

She met eyes with Irene, who offered her back the cork. "Yours?"

Allyson shook her head, and Irene smiled slyly, reeling her arm back and whipping the cork overhead into the warehouse. She laughed as she watched it bounce off the head of one of Spot's boys. Then she turned her attention back to Allyson, a perfectly nice smile in place.

"I'm Irene," she said in introduction, wiping her hand on her skirt before offering it to shake. "You're Blink's girl, yeah?"

"I'm not. His girl, that is. My name's Allyson."

Irene looked mildly disappointed, the corners of her mouth drooping the tiniest bit. "That's a shame then."

"Whys that?"

"It was driving Rosie absolutely insane. The most jealous I think I've ever seen her!" Irene leaned closer, cupping one hand to cover her mouth as if she were telling a secret. "But, let's keep it between you and me, huh? At least for tonight?"

Irene laughed to herself as though that was the funniest thing she'd ever said, but then her expression turned deathly serious.

"Don't mistake me; Rosie's my best friend. But she so rarely gets taken down a notch, and even more rarely is she ever jealous – this is really for her own good," – the maniacal smile returned, reminding Allyson briefly of Doc – "as well as for my entertainment."

Allyson wasn't sure how to respond, so she simply nodded. She decided that, despite Irene's request, if Rosie asked her later about her and Blink, she wouldn't lie to her – she had suffered enough of Rosie's unpleasant attention to last her a lifetime. She wondered if Irene had ever been on the receiving end of that, and decided she must not have, or at least didn't care enough to notice; otherwise she wouldn't have been so cruel as to subject another person to that fate, simply for her enjoyment.

Irene patted her on the shoulder. Though she was quite bony, and disarmingly doll-like in her appearance, Irene was surprisingly strong; Allyson swore later that she had a bruise on her shoulder.

"Well, it was fantastic properly meeting you, Allyson," Irene said, her eyes fixed on a group of Brooklyn newsies throwing dice just behind them, "but I'll have to say goodbye for now."

Before she got to say anything in reply, Irene had pushed herself into the game, and Allyson was alone again.

She started to wander off, her unopened bottle still cradled in her arms. The warehouse was loud, and crowded even for such a large space, the smell of alcohol and bodies had overpowered the old dusty room. She had always hated crowds, had always felt uncomfortable caught in the middle of them. The only time she had been able to be really able to stand them was back when she and Molly would go together, and she could dance – but those get-togethers were nothing like the gathering in the warehouse. It was too crowded, there was no music. No fire or ghost stories either. There was too much noise, too many people laughing loudly. She had seen a fight break out. She couldn't think. She seriously considered leaving, but realised she should tell Blink first. She started to look for him, but realised she had nowhere to go even if she did.

She wanted to find someplace to hide, if that was even possible – to at least pretend she wasn't there anymore. The scene left her feeling overwhelmed, and abandoned by the only people she was remotely familiar with. She cringed as glass shattered nearby, followed by cheering, and forced her way through past jostling elbows and shoulders, making her way toward the nearest wall. She hoped that there, she could find a place to tuck away, to pretend she wasn't even there until she could leave.

She had made it to a large cluster of crates, secluded from the revellers. They were the only ones she could see that hadn't yet been claimed as seats or card tables. She quickly ducked behind them, considering for a moment that she could sit back here on the floor, and no one would notice her, when Rosie hopped over one of the smaller boxes as though it were barely an obstacle.

Allyson startled as Rosie landed beside her with all the grace of a dropped hammer, the blonde girl's face tinged pink. In her hand was a tall, green bottle, different from the one Allyson had seen her with earlier. Rosie quickly regained her balance, sizing Allyson up. She noticed the bottle, still in her arms.

"You ain't drinking?" Despite her apparent loss of grace, Rosie's voice hadn't yet changed to a slur. Though her face was glowing, she still looked terrifying, easily snatching Allyson's bottle from her hands. Rosie uncorked the bottle, then forced it back into Allyson's grip. The strong, piney scent of gin assaulted her nostrils, and Rosie looked at her expectantly, staring until Allyson reluctantly lifted it to her mouth. Satisfied, Rosie took a large swig from her own drink.

"So," Rosie started, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand in an extremely unladylike fashion, "what're you doing back here?"

"Hiding," Allyson admitted, taking another tiny mouthful of the pungent alcohol. She was likely imagining things, but she could almost feel it filling her veins, making the world around her feel watery, less real.

"No! Don't sip it," Rosie yelled, horrified and distracted from her own question, "what are you doing? You can't sip it!"

"I've never had gin before." She remembered the wines that she and Doc would sneak, fruity and sweet. They hadn't been nearly as bad to drink. In comparison, the gin was like swallowing a mouthful of fire. Or pine needles.

Rosie shook her head, taking another long swig. "Doesn't matter, don't be a baby."

Allyson glared, but tipped the bottle back, fighting against her urge to gag as she took a deep drink. Rosie looked contented, nodding to herself as though she had done some great service. Then, she seemed to remember why she had followed Allyson to the back of the warehouse.

"Why are you trying to hide?"

"Because I can't stand this," she gestured out to the rest of the warehouse.

Rosie immediately bowled past, decidedly uninterested in Allyson's reasons – "Where's Blink?"

"I don't know, I wasn't aware I was supposed to keep track of him," she snapped. "I thought he was with you."

Rosie looked confused. "I thought you two would'a been together, considering –" she waved her hand vaguely, a sour look on her face.

"We're not together."

Rosie's expression improved, though not for more than a second. "He was looking for you, y'know."

Allyson tried not to look surprised, or triumphant, though she couldn't be sure – the gin had already taken hold of her, the joints of her arms feeling loose, and her facial features were completely out of her control. She tried not to smile as she asked her, "Where did he go?"

Rosie seemed to lose interest in talking about Blink, ignoring her. Instead, she took to studying Allyson closely.

"Y'know, you're not all that bad, Allyson. You've got some fire in you." Rosie said solemnly before taking a large swig from her bottle. "I can see that. I get it."

Allyson shook her head weakly. "I try not to." It was an honest answer. Her temper had only ever gotten her in trouble, same with her stubbornness. She struggled to keep them under wraps, but it didn't always work out. Nervously, she drank almost a fifth of her bottle, if only to keep from saying anything more.

Rosie laughed shortly. "If that's you trying, I don't want to know what you're like when you're flying off the handle. Can't imagine it's pleasant." She stared at Allyson with her dark blue eyes. "You ever been in a fight, Bronx?"

"Sure."

Rosie scoffed. "I'd pay to see that. You're no taller than Zoe."

Allyson crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter that I'm short."

"'Course not. Still, I'd pay to see it." Rosie took another swig, then looked up like she had had an epiphany. "You should fight me, right now."

Allyson grimaced. She didn't need to get into it to know who would win between the two of them. "I'd rather not."

"Suit yourself."

There was a hush that suddenly came over the warehouse, and then there was a shout Allyson couldn't make out the words of, though whoever it was sounded none too pleased. It didn't stop, the voice rising into what was almost a shriek. Rosie paled.

"Shit." She chugged the last of her bottle, then slammed it down on the top of the crate. "It's Gabrielle. And Julia. C'mon."

She wasn't sure why Rosie wanted her to follow, but she did nonetheless. The rest of the partiers had the same idea, all pushing to see the commotion at the front entrance. As Rosie approached, they parted the way for her. Allyson stuck close to her heels, careful not to get caught in the mob as it closed behind them.

They made it to the front of the warehouse, and Allyson wished she could go back to the corner she had found. Gabrielle was there, towering over Spot, who looked annoyed, Julia looking just as unimpressed as she watched. Gabrielle was speaking in rapid-fire, though Allyson still had no idea what she was saying.

"Okay, Frenchie," Spot groaned, raising his hands in surrender, "ya realise I have no idea what you's sayin', right?"

That earned only a growl from Gabrielle, but from the corner of her eye, she spotted Rosie at the front of the drawn crowd, and her head whipped around to face her. Allyson had never seen such a furious expression in her life, and even though it was not directed at her, she felt like it was high time to find a large rock to crawl under. Beside her, Rosie stumbled back a step, though she didn't drop her stony expression.

"You," Gabrielle growled, stabbing her finger at Rosie's person. "This was your idea, wasn't it?"

Rosie's lips tightened. "Maybe."

There was complete silence as Gabrielle stalked forward. Allyson half expected her to slap the blonde girl, and she took a step away. She met eyes with Julia, who had moved surprisingly close to Spot, her eyes wide as though she too expected something to break out.

Instead, the French girl grabbed Rosie's arm. "You are going home. Now."

Rosie bared her teeth, ripping her wrist out of the taller girl's grip. "You're not the boss of me. And I'm not a child." She looked back between Julia and Gabrielle, a spiteful gleam in her eyes. "Neither of you are, as much as you want to believe it."

"No, we aren't," Julia agreed, stepping into the dangerous space between the two girls, "but you did not tell us where you were – we were worried. About all of you." She looked past Allyson, and there was a tiny squeal of fear from Bea. Allyson turned to see the younger girl ducking behind Irene, who looked unmoved by the whole situation.

"C'mon, Jules. You know that we didn't mean anything by it." The dark-haired girl's lips twitched into a smile, and Allyson remembered the bet between her and Elizabeth. "Relax."

Gabrielle drew in a deep breath, though her terrifying expression hadn't yet faded entirely. Julia turned to Spot.

"I am sorry for barging in like this. Please, continue."

Spot smirked. He still seemed annoyed, glaring at Gabrielle. "Yeah, well. Make yourselves at home. Don't let me stop you."

Gabrielle huffed, then turned on her heel, marching out of the building.

Though it took a minute for it to put up again, everything was quickly back to how it had been before, the boys regrouping and the girl dispersing among them. Julia glided toward Allyson, hand to her temple, looking exasperated.

"May I?" She pointed to the bottle of gin Allyson had forgotten she was carrying. She handed it to her with a quick nod.

Julia took a long drink, and then handed the bottle back to Allyson. "Thank you. I don't normally drink gin."

"I don't either," she admitted, tripping over her words slightly. Julia gave her a concerned look, and Allyson tipped the bottle back as she took a drink herself.

"You feeling alright, Allyson? Where's Kid Blink?"

She shrugged. "I hate things like this. With so many people. I don't know where he is."

Julia bit her lip, looking quite concerned as she gently took Allyson's elbow, steering her toward the outskirts of the crowd. "I think you've perhaps had enough to drink."

Allyson stopped for a moment. She didn't want to admit that she was starting to feel woozy, and her fingers had all but gone numb. She'd barely had anything, and though she usually wasn't great at holding her liquor, this display was particularly pathetic for her. She glanced down at the bottle. "Can't waste this, I don't think. Seems expensive."

"I'll take it, then," Julia said, smoothly taking it from her hands. "Wait here, and I'll take you back home."

Julia walked away, back toward Spot, who looked amused as she approached. Allyson felt herself wobble, her feet not so sure of themselves even as they stood still, her knees no longer feeling like they could maintain her posture, either. She wondered if anyone would help her up if they buckled.

As though they had read her mind, someone grasped her forearm, keeping her still. "There you are. Thought I'd lost ya."

Blink had come up behind her, his usual grin on his face. He didn't look too stable himself, but his hand on her arm made her feel less like she was about to trip over her own feet.

"Hey," she said, but it didn't sound right, her tongue too thick in her mouth. The alcohol bubbled in her stomach, but she ignored it. She looked up at his one blue eye, and found herself blushing. She imagined the colour of her cheeks must match his. His smile grew wider.

He took another step forward, too close; she had to look up too high to see his face. "Allyson, I gotta talk to ya."

"Yeah?" She was confused at his serious tone, it didn't match the smile on his face. She wanted to touch his eyepatch again, noticing the frayed edge as it rested against his cheekbone, but fought to keep her hand at her side.

"I just gotta know, we're still gonna be friends, right?" He licked his lips absently, bracing both his hands against her shoulders. He spoke too quickly, his words smudging together. "You's gonna go back to the Bronx, but I still wanna be friends."

"I do, too." Still confused, she gently touched his wrist. The noise in the warehouse was tinny, as though it was very far away. Blink stared at her intensely, his fingers wrapping around her shoulders a little too tightly. She didn't understand what he was worried about. "You said we were already friends…"

"But can we still be when ya go? Can I still see ya?

"Of course. If you want."

"Okay," he seemed satisfied, expression softening. "Okay. I just like you a lot. I still want to be friends."

"Okay," her voice came out weakly, and she found herself rising onto her tiptoes, their faces hovering close together.

He leaned in, closing the distance, and kissed her. For a moment, she was confused, thinking about how odd it was that Blink had called her his friend, but was now kissing her, but the thought was swept away almost as quickly as it had come up. She was surprised, first, because she wasn't appalled, and didn't want to push him away. Second, because it was nothing like the only other kiss she had ever had. Though both this one and the other had reeked of alcohol, Dusty's lips had been dry and cracked from the cold of winter. Blink's were soft. Pleasantly warm. Comforting, even; his lips were nicer, she decided.

She kissed him back, hands gently resting on his shoulders. Her head was spinning. She wasn't certain of why she was kissing him. When he pulled away, he grinned slightly, and was about to say something, when she felt a strange tightness in her chest.

She quickly turned before she doubled over, vomiting.

When she looked back up, Blink was howling with laughter, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I wasn't aware kissin' me was so bad," he gasped. She felt tears prick her eyes from the burn of her bile and the smell of pine; the room was spinning, and she felt herself gag again.

After that, she only remembered Julia wrapping an arm over her shoulders, gently leading her away. Everything else was too fuzzy to really bother recollecting.