Spot pulled a crate out from the dark alleyway and sat himself on top of it with a grunt. He whipped out his pack of cigarettes and scratched the head of a match against the side of the crate. Puffing contentedly, he gazed up at the dusky sky threw his hat on the sidewalk next to him. He closed his eyes as a breeze blew past, rustling his hair. A cough came from behind him, and he jerked his head down sharply, whirling on the intruder. He scowled into the darkness, searching for the person from which the cough had come.

To his surprise, a girl stepped from the shadows, a smirk on her face, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, which were attached to a shabby coat. A ripped cap sat atop her head, cocked backward to show her face. She shook her head and removed the unlit cigarette from her mouth. Her dark hair shone in the moonlight. "Gotta light?" She asked casually, stepping closer.

Spot rolled his eyes. "What's it to ya?"

The girl shrugged. "Jus' wonderin'." She replied, nodding to his own lit cigarette.

He turned away haughtily and gazed up again, blocking out all around him.

"Sounds like a killah party, eh?"

He furrowed his brow and concentrated harder on his thoughts.

"I thought so too."

He could feel her nodding. He gritted his teeth.

She paused, then Spot heard muffled rustling, as if she were putting something in her pocket.

"What's ya name?" She awaited his answer with an irritating amount of patience.

Spot gave up and turned on her, eyes blazing.

She smiled. "Dat's bettah. Eye contact is always good when in convahsation." She repeated mechanically.

"Spot. Spot Conlon." He said crisply.

Her eyes widened the tiniest bit. "Oh, da Brooklyn leadah, right?"

He nodded. He was used to having everyone know who he was.

"I heah you're a real prick."

Spot nearly choked on his own cigarette smoke. He jumped from his perch and approached her, pleasantly surprised to find that she was shorter than he. "Oh really? Well, I heah t'ings too. /Bad/ t'ings. Bad stories 'bout goils who tawk too much and stay out past deir bedtimes." He turned from her and cast a glance over his shoulder. "I suggest you cheese it." He said menacingly as he could.

The girl crossed her arms, then extended one hand. "Angel."

Spot faltered in his leader status for a second. "Wh-what?" He sputtered, turning back around.

"Dat's me name. Angel." The girl waved her hand around.

"Your s'possed ta shake it." She advised when he didn't move.

"I know." He snapped, spitting in his hand and grabbing her's.

Angel smiled, satisfied. "Maybe I was wrong about youse."

"Name fits ya." He interrupted her mid-sentence.

She smiled broader. "I know." She echoed.

Spot glowered at her, Angel's smile growing by the minute.

"So, whadda ya doin' heah anyway?" She asked, dropping her smile.

He blinked at her for a bit, surprised he had won so easily. "Heah? Like, out heah?"

"In Manhattan period."

"I might ast you da same t'ing."

"I ast you foist." She fired back.

Spot narrowed his eyes some more. "Fine. I'se heah for da party."

Angel looked him over skeptically. "Den...why ain't—"

"I got sick 'a it. It was s'possed ta be /my/ party an' I din't like da way it toined out."

Angel nodded soberly. "Yeah, me too. I don't even know most 'a da people in dere, an' so..."

"Who tole' ya ta come?"

Angel looked up, startled. "Oh, umm, a few friends 'a mine."

"Lemme guess, dey're in dere...while yer out heah."

She nodded again, and picked at her fingernails.

"Looks like we're in da same boat, you an' me." He said softly, looking at the ground.

She shifted nervously on her feet. "Yeah...guess so."

An awkward pause hung in the air.

Spot stood, dropping the butt of his cigarette and crushing it somberly beneath the toe of his boot. "Look, ah, I'm gonna go now."

"What, ya needs premission now?"

He turned his head calmly. "Not from da likes 'a you I don't."

Angel raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Really now."

Spot echoed her smile, much in spite of himself. "Yeah, really."

Faint strains of music drifted up and out of Irving Hall, and the stars twinkled softly overhead.

"I'm gonna go." He looked straight at her, and into her eyes.

"Me too."

"See ya 'round?"

She shrugged softly. "Pra'bly." There was a trace of hope in her answer.

Neither moved.

"'Bye."

"'Bye."

~*~*~*~*~

Spot made his lonely trek back to Brooklyn, arriving at the quiet lodging house deep in thought.

He climbed to the roof and sat, feet dangling off the edge as he peered down into the inky blackness. That same inky blackness had looked so menacing the day before. He lifted his chin and leaned back on his hands. The breeze picked up then, and he shivered, smiling as he felt the hairs rising on his arms and the back of his neck.

Cowboy would wonder where he had gotten to, Spot realized. After the hangover faded, anyway.

Maybe he'd take a trip down to Manhattan in the morning...just to clear things up.

~*~*~*~*~

Someone who's made just for me - My fallen angel - The special love heaven sends me - My fallen angel - Somewhere to belong, someone to hold on - So I just keep on waiting on - My fallen angel - My fallen angel - My fallen angel - EYC