Irish Flare's appearance had improved quite quickly, but her slight limp whished to bother her longer. Having spied on Spot and Bitter's conversation, she had barely been able to disappear into the bathroom before Bitter passed through the door of Spot's room.
Peaking through a crack in the door, Irish slowly opened the door only to encounter the lean body of Relic towering two inches above her. Irish was pushed a foot back with a surprised "umph" and a look of humor passed over Relic's clear cyan blue eyes. "Someone's alert today!" Relic laughed at Irish's surprise.
"Don't worry, I wont tell Spot you were spying," Relic smirked as she pushed past a flushed Irish Flare into the bathroom.
"I ain't the only one I bet," Irish retorted, looking at Relic knowingly before limping out of the bathroom and up to the girls' bunkroom.
Denying Books' offer for a poker game, she headed over to Bitter's bunk. Bitter's face was buried in the limp old pillows on her bed, leaving her short blonde hair in a mess behind her. Her gray newsies' cap had fallen onto her back and move in rhythm with her unsteady breathing.
Rather than disrupt Bitter's silent sobbing, Irish limped to her bunk, pulling herself up to the top bunk and searching desperately for her hidden flask of whiskey. Finding it, she took a gulp of her medicine. Irish Flare laughed at the thought of the intoxicating liquid being any form of medicine. Even whiskey couldn't relieve the curiosity that had over come her in the past few days. It was hard to bear with the answer to all her question being only a few bunks away.
Of course she knew that if you wanted to get any information out of Bitter, you'd have to time it perfectly. She was almost predictable once you got to really know her, not that she ever let anyone get that close.
Just looking into her green eyes revealed her thoughts. Irish was getting close to Bitter, closer than Shooter had ever seemed. It was easy to hate Bitter until you really understood her. Irish could see why Spot was so drawn to her. The two were sometimes almost the same. There was a certain understanding between the two because of it. So alike they were that Irish felt they'd never end up together because of their ways of working around emotions. Unless someone pushed them… Irish smiled devilishly to herself on that thought. "Maybe when things have calmed down a bit, " Irish said out loud in a sleepy voice, slowly drifting into a sweet slumber that would last her until morning.
Morning came and went rather quickly. No one noticed a certain Brooklyn leader missing until nearly nightfall. A normal selling day it had been for both Irish Flare and Bitter. Things felt like they were finally getting back to normal. Irish Flare made Bitter feel like she had a good friend again, like Shooter had never even been a part of her life.
Bitter's head was clear of all thoughts of gangs, Shooter, and Manhattan: Until they reached the lodging house at least. Spot's right hand man, Captain, had taken over for the day. The only information he would give about Spot's whereabouts was "He's out for the night."
Bitter took advantage of her good looks, dragging the lean but muscular boy into the kitchen after little resistance. Fondly running her hands through his red, curly tresses, she nibbled on his right earlobe, pushing him gently against the counter. Whispering gently in his ear, she tugged at the buttons on his pants.
"Spot's in Manhattan, isn't he?" Her sultry voice elicited an exasperated "yes" from the hormonal young man. Pulling her hands away, she kissed him roughly and then stepped back. "Thanks for the information," Bitter winked, leaving the stunned boy alone in the kitchen, his face turning a deeper shade of red by the second.
Not waiting for an explosion from the kitchen, Bitter grabbed Irish by the hand, dragging her out of the lodging house. She ignored the smaller girl's protests until they were a good few blocks away.
Giggling uncontrollably, Bitter couldn't seem to get anything sensible out of her mouth. The sight of a steaming mad Irish Flare only made the whole situation funnier to Bitter.
Catching a breath, Bitter finally got out "Spot… in … Manhattan… must… go… there…"
Irish rolled her eyes, gaining her composure and expressing that she didn't want to know. With that, they were off to Manhattan!