Henry had never been on an–what did they call it?–airship before. Though he held onto the sleeve of Dad Reginald's thin jacket, he had a feeling this wasn't something that the man liked. But, if he held onto the hem of his jacket, he might think Henry would steal something. He didn't mean to steal from Uncle Right, but it was really tempting, and he'd never seen anything like it before so he couldn't help himself. But he knew stealing from them was wrong, now. People didn't like believing him, so he'd have to do more than just apologize.

Henry looked around the ship as they moved. First, they were in the bay, where the half dozen others wearing all types of top hats and fancy looking clothes milled. Boxes and objects, most tied down or wrapped up to ship, filled quite a bit of the space. He ducked his head, trying not to look at anyone despite most people looking at him. Mrs. Sm–Carol talked with a cluster of two others, who now paid no heed to Henry. Carol was too much like the Headmistress. She was sweet and kind on the outside, but he knew–he just knew–that she was really just mean. All women who acted nice when there were people around would be mean to him when he was alone or with the other kids. That was a fact.

But now there were no other kids.

But Dad Reginald didn't act very much differently than he had when around the Headmistress. Well, aside from spilling the beans about being an awesome outlaw! So, Henry should like him, right? Uncle Right probably didn't like him, for good reason. But friends agreed with each other. What if Dad Reginald didn't like him because Uncle Right didn't?

They walked up the sideways facing steps to a balcony holding a door that required a key card to be swiped. Dad Reginald growled in frustration as the first two times he swiped the card, he received an angry buzz in response. But the third swipe yielded a proper response as the door opened. They made their way over a catwalk which Henry refused to look down on. Soon enough, they were in a long hallway full of rooms and what looked like doorways standing at specific points equally as far apart down the hall.

Dad Reginald hardly had to glance at the doors before opening an empty one. Not only was it larger than Henry's little square of space, being the appropriate size of a bedroom, but there were two real sized beds on either side of the room. Some decorations like pretty toys and a chest at the foot of the left bed partially open with a stick sticking out of it were the first things he saw.

Dad Reginald said, "Here is where you'll sleep. Howie lives here, too; he was adopted, eh, two years ago. Come on, now. Make yourself at home. Get washed up. Your clothes might not fit but wear the best you can find." He turned to his friend. "Right Hand Man, there should still be some food at the cafeteria." Though he started to leave, he hesitated. "You already ate, didn't you?"

Henry shook his head. "Headmistress said thieves don't get to eat."

Dad Reginald scoffed. "We eat better than she ever will. Come along, now. You can take a shower after you've eaten."

Henry couldn't help a smile as he followed the two further down the hall. Near the end of the hall, Dad Reginald gestured to one of the doors. "This room is mine. That is Right Hand Man's." Uncle Right's door was next to Dad Reginald's. They doubled back and then continued. A few turns and doors later, the hallway turned into a massive room. The place was larger than the entire orphanage! Long tables bedecked with chairs crossed the cafeteria. Doors, some mechanical like the ones they went through and some without technology stamped into them littered the walls. A wide window sent auburn light into the already well-lit room. Henry could see forever out into the clouds and the desert and the mountains that loomed far away.

He stopped gawking long enough to accept Dad Reginald's offer of an open door.

"Eh?" A man in a stained apron with a black top hat looked up from the countertop he stood before. "Reginald? Right Hand Man? Eh, you weren't here for dinner. Who's this?"

"This is Henry," Reginald said. "He is our newest recruit. We were stuck at that orphanage in Red Mesa."

The chef made a noise of acknowledgement and understanding and gestured to one of the massive refrigerators at the end of the room. "Just take the extra in there." With that, the black-hat-one walked further into the kitchen that was straight out of a movie.

Henry hadn't seen so much food in his life as they opened the door to the fridge and found at least a half dozen meals packed in translucent containers, and then more ingredients further in. They were mostly vegetables; carrots, lettuce, beans, broccoli, and a whole host of others he couldn't even name all packaged and preserved and ready to be prepared.

Henry snapped out of his thoughts as they began to move again. A few microwaves were open. Although Dad Reginald wrinkled his nose as he popped the containers into the microwaves, Henry couldn't understand why. Microwaves were great! They made cold food warm. Warm food smelled nice and tasted nicer. Unless it was vegetables. Then they were still bad, maybe worse. As Dad Reginald messed with the microwaves and checked on the food within, Uncle Right found himself in another refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water. A wine rack stood nearby. Henry knew what this was as the Headmistress and the other women would empty a couple of them on the holidays or sift through one every weekend. Some of the boys tried sneaking some, but always got caught and very severely punished for it.

Henry didn't hesitate to heartily thank them and hold his own food and the glass of apple juice Uncle Right gave him. They sat close to one of the windows. Henry watched as the two talked about something Henry didn't understand. Something about… plans? Jewels? Were they going on a mission? A heist? Like in the movies?

Henry stayed obediently quiet, took off his backpack, and turned to his food. Whoa. Although he minded the broccoli that stayed to one side, corn topping mashed potatoes flanking a juicy slab of steak took up most of the plate. Not even school food looked as good as this. He scarfed down his meal, hardly pausing long enough to use a utensil.

He froze upon hearing Dad Reginald clear his throat.

Henry looked up at him and sat up straight, quite aware some sauce now smeared across his cheek.

"Where did you learn to eat?" Dad Reginald huffed, a look of disgust marring his features.

"Sorry," Henry mumbled, shrinking into himself. Stupid, stupid Henry. He was being nice to you and then you were so stupid! Stupid, stupid. Learn to eat proper.

Dad Reginald repeated his question, albeit a little more forcefully. "Who taught you manners? Donkeys?"

Henry shook his head. "N-no. Sorry." He inwardly smacked himself and went on, "Um, kids." The headmistress would be more than pissed. Henry was due for another beating, wasn't he? Oh, he hated those.

Dad Reginald puffed, "Carol will never let us live this down. Henry, you must consider our image and yours. If you eat and act like a homeless child, no one will treat you with respect. Toppats command respect. You will need to look and eat and talk properly."

"Okay."

Dad Reginald let out a small sigh. Oh no. What had Henry did wrong? Was 'okay' not a proper word? Maybe it wasn't. Henry didn't know "proper." But he should! Teachers liked to act proper! He should have paid attention to how his teachers acted. Eyes up, Henry! Pay attention!

Dad Reginald went on, his voice way gentler than Henry expected, "You have a lot to learn. Straighten your back; don't hunch over like that. Don't put your elbows on the table."

Henry obeyed. Dad Reginald explained what he was actually supposed to use a fork for but called it a weird name. British people were weird. But he had to learn what they were talking about.

Then, Dad Reginald stopped talking and indicated Henry's half-eaten plate. Henry, his back straight and his elbows hanging off the table by a few inches and one hand grasping his fork, stabbed a piece of steak that had been peeled off the main piece and, with a glance up at Dad Reginald to make sure he was not screwing up again, ate it.

"That's better," Dad Reginald stated.

Then, the two men were no longer paying attention to him.

Henry, a little frustrated at how much more slowly this style of eating was compared to his improper way of eating, cut the steak apart with a knife rather than tear it with his fork. He wasn't allowed a knife at the orphanage, but he had seen it being used by older kids and adults. Though, as he got to the broccoli, he hesitated. Ugh, broccoli. None of the other kids like broccoli, and Henry was no different.

"Henry, you will sit here until you eat your vegetables. I don't care if you get tired or it molds, you will eat it. Understand?"

Some of the older boys were successful in hiding the disgusting vegetables, but Henry was rarely as good. He was good at taking and hiding said taken things, but for some reason the Headmistress and the other ladies were able to find vegetables on him like dogs on treats. What would Dad Reginald say if he did that? Uncle Right was able to see Henry steal from him, so he might find out, too.

Henry choked down the rest of his dinner. Only after the fact did he realize he hadn't taken a single sip of his apple juice. So, that was next on his agenda. The pungent taste washed away the warm, thick greens that for some reason took longer to eat than the chewier steak. He wiped off his face, realizing a little too late he could have just hidden the broccoli in his napkin.

…nah, that was stupid. That was always the first place the ladies searched.

Soon enough, the adults were done eating and Henry followed them to where they dropped off the dishes as well as the garbage. Well, now he got to go to his room and really look around the place. "Good night, Dad Reginald, Uncle Right!" Henry said as he tromped to his room.

"Good night, Henry," Dad Reginald wished and Uncle Right gave him a small nod and a grunt. "Right Hand Man," Henry heard Dad Reginald say before the door shut.

Either way, the door closed behind him and he set his backpack on his bed. He looked through it and brought out his school supplies to set within the chest at the foot of his bed. Once those were out of the way, he pulled out a few trinkets that definitely belonged to him and not the lost and found, the other kids at school or the orphanage, or the street. He sat on his bed and played with one of his favorite toys: a blue rectangular box with a screen and multiple buttons on its face. Gameboy proudly proclaimed itself on the bottom rim around the screen. He looked around the room and, as he heard footsteps, quickly stuffed the Gameboy back into his backpack and stuffed it under his bed, hidden beneath the hem of his blanket.

Henry took a deep breath and opened the door to what he believed was his closet on the wall just past the chest at the foot of his bed. Yes, it was his closet. Clothes too big for him–surprisingly, just big enough for the young teen boys with a little room to grow–hung on the clothes rack. Translucent drawers held underclothes and a pair of shoes. He didn't need shoes, though. Not right now. Right now, it was time for bed. Well, after his shower. None of them liked how dirty his hair was, not the Headmistress, not his new dad nor his uncle or their coworker. He assumed–hoped–she was just a coworker. The less he saw of her, the better. Though, the Toppat Clan was a big family, so he'd still see her around.

He sifted through the hanged clothes, eyes wide in wonder. Even the plainest shirt–a short sleeved black shirt with white sleeves–was so much more… new than his or the other boys'. He remembered seeing some of the older kids from school with shirts similar to these, but the sleeves were all but gone and that was great for the athletic types who loved showing off their muscles. Theirs still had the folded collars, though many of them wore the collars popped up. It was fairly dumb, but he never questioned them. Especially since he stole the lead jock's girlfriend's hairbrush. It's not like he was ever that good at using a brush–in fact, it was quite painful most of the time–but the mirror set in the faux gold bedazzled face of the brush was just so… pretty? Tempting was a good word for it, too. Irresistible. He had seen it and there was nothing he wanted more than that brush.

Henry plucked a soft set of light blue pajamas speckled white and strode into the bathroom. It wasn't very large, but it was still big enough for a toilet, sink, and shower–something that could not be said for the other personal bathrooms in the orphanage.

Henry still had trouble with his stupid hair, but he managed to get the dirt and sand out of it. But now it stuck up like a bristling sheep. Eh, he was going to sleep, anyway. He could worry about it, later.

He left the bathroom, only to come face-to-face with a new boy, most of his strawberry blonde hair hidden beneath a brown top hat. This one was only about six years older than Henry, but already rather tall. The new boy blinked and cocked his head. "Who're you?"

"Henry," Henry mumbled.

"Uh… oh! Ah heard of you!" The boy held out his hand. "Howie! Howie Howitzer. You're Henry…?"

Henry took Howie's hand. "Stickmin."

"Well, howdy, Henry Stickmin! Ah guess we're bunking together. Blue, huh? Nice choice. Funny hair ya have there. Ah knew a kid with curly hair, but not like that! Are ya goin' to bed soon? Ah wonder when you'll get yer own hat. Will it be blue? Oh, sorry! Ah'm talkin' too much! An' Ah haven't let go. Sorry! Here." He let go of Henry's hand and stepped aside.

Henry quickly stepped out of the bathroom. What in the heck? "Thanks."

Howie grinned. "We're going to be friends in no time! Ah was told we were gonna have a boy my age. Ahh, well, Ah'm not complaining about an unexpected face 'round here! Ah got extra pilla's so help yerself!" With that, Howie walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind himself.

Henry stared at the door for a moment before setting his dirty clothes in the basket in his closet and laying down.