Philippa looked around the small restroom, making sure to peek underneath the stall doors to ensure she was alone. Then, she looked up at her only possible route of escape-the window. She bit her lower lip, realizing that this was going to prove to be quite the task, because the window was a good four feet out of her reach. Her violet eyes scanned the room, searching for something that she could stand on to better reach this window.

Soon, she spotted a few old crates in the corner of the room where a few of the cleaning supplies were kept due to the fact that there wasn't enough space in the storage room. Moving quickly, she moved the crates, stacking them beneath the window. Cautiously, unsure of whether or not they would support her weight, she stepped onto the stair steps of crates. When they proved sturdy enough, she unlatched the pane, peering out to see where it led.

Seeing that it led into an empty alleyway, she grinned, thinking wryly to herself that she never thought she'd be so glad to spend time in another dark alley. She pulled herself up, maneuvering to get out of the window. Even with her petite form it was a bit of a squeeze, but she managed to climb out of the casement, landing on her rump with a soft thud.

Much to the girl's surprise, she found a strong pair of hands lifting her to her feet. "Y'know, it ain't polite to leave without sayin' g'bye." Phil didn't need to turn around to know that the voice and hands belonged to Spot, but he turned her to face him anyway.

She took a deep breath, wondering how she would get out of this one. Spot definitely didn't look as if he appreciated her lying and trying to sneak off. He shook her roughly by the shoulders, and she tried to pull away. "Don't you ever touch me like that again!"

With that, Spot released her, and after a brief hesitation, Phil sprinted off. Spot, not willing to lose anything that easily took pursuit, chasing after her as Phil ran through streets and alleyways. Spot stayed right on her heels as she seemed to be running almost blindly, not seeming to be paying attention to where she was going.

They had been running for quite some time when she stopped so suddenly that Spot ran right into her. Philippa didn't seem to notice, however, for her eyes were trained on the large, somewhat run down building that loomed before them. Above their heads, a sign blew in the wind, looking as if it may very very fall at any given moment. The words "Crosswinds Orphanage: Home to those unwanted souls" were crudely scrawled into it.

Spot frowned, reminded too much of the Refuge to find any comfort before the gates of this building. "What's goin' on, Phil?" He finally asked.

It took her a few moments before she replied, her tone resolute. "I'm going to break in. She stepped closer to the gate.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Spot lurched forward as if to grab her arm but remembered her earlier warning and stopped short, dropping his hand to his side. "Most kids wanna break outta dese places, not into 'em!"

Phil's fingers curved around the wrought iron bars of the gate, which gave the place the look of a prison rather than a place for children. That's when Spot noticed the doors of the orphanage open, and on instinct, he pulled Phil away from the gate, putting a hand over her mouth as she struggled. He held her with her back against his chest and his back against the brick wall that enclosed the orphanage.

Well, if she was so blasted determined, he might as well help her get in there so she wouldn't get caught. He whispered a hurried explanation in her ear, "They'se gonna be openin' da gate in just a sec, I think. Den we'se can sneak inside." Though she looked mildly surprised, Phil ceased her struggling, waiting with him in silence.

Sure enough, the gate was soon creaking open on hinges that sounded as if they hadn't been oiled since they were first installed. A carriage exited with a female passenger who was bedecked in the latest of women's fashions. Once it was past, Spot took Philippa's hand, pulling her hastily through the gate and onto the orphanage grounds just before it was reclosed. They moved toward the building and hid next to the rickety old porch.

When she was sure the coast was clear, Phil stared at Spot, asking, "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged. "Da way I see it, if'n I wadn't helpin' yas just now, ya'd 'ave been caught fer sure." He took his hat off, placing it instead on her head, pulling it down over her eyes. "Now, will ya tell me why we'se doin' dis?"

She took the hat off of her head but didn't return it to him. Instead, she twisted up her long, chestnut colored hair, tucking it underneath as she places it back on her own head. "Thanks." Her own seemed to gotten lost somewhere between Tibby's and the orphanage. "Not half bad." She mutters, speaking more to herself than to Spot. "They're looking for a girl."

"Den, you'se been here before?"

Phil nodded. "Yes, but now I'm back to get my brother."

Spot smiled to himself. He was beginning to get the details of this mystery, but his smile faded instantly as she advanced toward the steps of the porch. "Hold on here!"

She whirled around to face him, hands on her hips. "What now?" She hissed impatiently.

"Whaddaya plannin' ta do-walk right up der and knock on da door, asking all sweet-like ta get ya brudder back?" You'se already mentioned dey'se lookin' for ya."

Phil started to interject but knew that Spot was right, which only infuriated her. She glared at him, demanding in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what do you suggest, Oh-Great-One?"

To which Spot shrugged his shoulders. "We'se just gonna hafta come back when we'se got the right supplies."

"NO!" That's when Phil did something that surprised the both of them. She sat down and started crying, the tears running freely down her face. This left Spot dumbfounded! He couldn't think of a single thing to do or say. His throat felt parched and his limbs leaden. Finally, he seemed to find his old confidence, and he sat down beside her, trying to slip an arm about her shoulders to comfort her. She wouldn't have it though, not wanting to feel pitied, and she shoved him so hard that he fell on his back a few feet from her.

Pain seared through his left arm, but that didn't affect him half so badly as the bruise to his ego. Spot was furious! He wasn't going to be pushed around like that by anyone-especially not some 'goil'!

When Spot started to walk away, Phil didn't follow. Instead, she called after him, her face set in a proud and stubborn expression, "Fine! I did not need help from you anyway!" Her already unconvincing street dialect seemed to have disappeared and she talked like a girl who had been raised in a more upper class society. She watched as Spot walked to the wall that surrounded the orphanage and blinked. She hadn't believed he would really leave her there on her own.