The footsteps drew closer. The light spilling from the doorway illuminated three figures just before they entered. A taller boy strode through the door first, followed by one that was just under Jack's height and held a gold tipped cane loosely in one hand. Jack didn't bother to look at the last boy to enter.

He nodded to Spot as stood away from the desk.

Spot settled a few feet within the door, the two others drifted to stand behind him as if it were second nature to them. One was Eights and the other one Jack didn't recognize.

Spot nodded to Jack as he slipped his cane through a belt loop. His clear blue eyes swept the immediate interior quickly for any sign of a threat, before settling his attention on Jack again. He did this with the same casual ease that he carried himself with, so much so, that it could easily be mistaken for an uninterested examination of the holes in the wall. But Jack knew better. Even after countless visits over the years, Spot still began each meeting this way. Jack wasn't offended by it though, knowing Spot did it more out of habit than mistrust.

That was just the way Spot was. In all the time Jack had known him, he'd never seen Spot let his guard down. Even when he was deep in his own territory, he was always watching.

A card game for most might be a way to relax and forget about the day, but to Spot it was a way to keep everyone in sight. While others were laughing about the last dirty joke they heard, he was laughing along with them, but his mind was miles away. He was figuring out a way to have them act in his best interest or turn against each other. Over the rim of the shot glass, his eyes were watching the quiet ones in the back, trying to spot the troublemakers before they themselves realized it.

It was probably the reason he was still around, that and his reputation. When they were handing them out, that kid got the long end of the stick. No one went near him unless they had a reason too, and even then they would avoid it.

Jack wasn't sure what was truth and what was entirely fabricated, probably by Spot himself. All he knew was what he had seen with his own eyes and that was enough to prove Spot had earned a great deal of the respect he got. And it was respect, not just fear. Though for most outside of Brooklyn, fear was the first thing that came to mind.

"You gonna invite me in, Jacky, or do I gotta stand here all night?" Spot prompted. He wasn't accustomed to waiting for anything and certainly not to be kept waiting by anyone. He knew the rules though, and would abide by them. They were in Jack's territory and he called the shots.

Jack spit into his palm and held it out for him.

"How ya doin', Spot?"

"Good, Jack," Spot shook his hand, allowing a smirk. "How's it rollin'?"

"You tell me."

"Yeah, alright," Spot nodded as his smile once more dissolved into a guarded expression. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Sure." Jack gestured into the other room. "Race, keep these two entertained, would ya?" Jack said, nodding to Spot's boys, indicating he didn't want a repeat of a few months ago.

The last time Brooklyn graced them with their presence, a fight had erupted. The result was more than a few bruised bodies and some broken furniture, which they all had to pay for. It hadn't helped the tenuous relationship and probably hurt any progress made in burying the frictions between them.

"You got it." Race nodded, crossing his arms as he looked the two over. They didn't look like they would cause problems, but Eights didn't seem entirely thrilled to be back.

"What are you lookin' at?" Eights started, more than happy to pick up where he had left off the night before.

Spot glanced briefly to him, not even making eye contact, but that was enough. Eights backed down.

"Not much." Race couldn't resist, knowing he would either get a black eye or another one up on Eights, but he didn't care. Mush flashed him a warning look, which he caught out of the corner of his eye and ignored for the moment.

Spot held out a hand to stop Eights before he moved. His eyes turned deliberately and slowly to Race. Mush stood up on the stairs as Spot moved toward them, tensing as his footsteps came to rest uncomfortably close to Race.

Jack closed his eyes and rolled them to the ceiling. This was not what he needed.

"Jack, you oughta keep your's in line," he said, within inches of Race's face, staring him down quietly. His words were clearly meant for Race, though he said them loud enough to reach Jack's ears and anyone else in the room.

Race held his ground for a brief second before finding a sudden interest in the wall behind Spot. His smile never did completely fade, his pride not allowing it, even though he could feel Spot's eyes boring into him.

He had been around long enough to know Spot wouldn't do anything, not here and certainly not for some smart-ass remark. For a kid that had such a reputation for fighting, Race had only rarely seen him do it. He didn't have to, a look or a word was usually enough. So as long as Race kept his mouth shut and appeared to get the message, Spot would probably be satisfied.

"Can't help ya there, Spot, they keep themselves. I just try 'n stay outta the way," Jack said, moving next to Race and resisting the urge to smack him upside the head. Once, just once, he'd like to avoid this type of thing.

Spot expected certain behavior, he operated under rules. Manhattan was different from Brooklyn in that respect. Where Jack could be counted on to lead them if need be or take care of people like Spot, he was never really looked upon as any different than the rest of them. He didn't tell them what to do anymore than they told him what to do. Brooklyn thought Manhattan was disorganized, Manhattan thought Brooklyn was one step up from the sewer. They might be a big and dangerous sewer, but they were still full of scum. It wasn't exactly the foundation for a warm relationship.

Jack turned into the other room, praying that Spot would lose interest and follow him. They had bigger things to discuss than toes being stepped on.

There was a dangerous glint in Spot's eyes that would have sobered Race quickly if he had seen it. Mush did, however, and stepped down a stair closer to the two. Spot glanced to Mush almost challengingly. Seeing he wasn't going to try anything, Spot turned back into the main room, not giving Race a second look as he followed Jack.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Mush said under his breath, as soon as Spot was out of earshot. "You're askin' for it."

"Nah," he laughed it off, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, "just takin' a few risks, that's all."

"Next time try not to take' em with Spot, ok?" Mush advised him lightly, though Race could tell he meant it.

Poker. The game that brought people together. Race smiled to himself as he looked around the table. No matter where you were from or how badly you wanted to deck the guy across the table, it never ceased to offer distraction. The best way to avoid trouble was to keep everyone happy and thinking about the little numbers on the cards. Did the trick every time.

He was in luck that Brooklyn had been making out pretty good in the past weeks, good enough that they had plenty of money to lose…play with, he corrected himself. He was in even more luck that they had actually agreed to play. Apparently standing by the door looking menacing had gotten old and they had wandered over themselves.

Boys were coming in and out regularly. In from work and straight out again as they saw Brooklyn. They commented on the sudden smell as the excuse, which only thinly veiled the true sentiment. Of course Brooklyn ignored it in favor of the game, Spot had clearly indicated he wanted no trouble and they wouldn't be the first to throw a punch.

The noise surrounding the door rose momentarily again. Race's eyes glanced absently to the door to see who it was this time. His eyes locked for a second with Blink's, but he looked back down before anything but recognition could be exchanged. Mush turned around to greet him, figuring Race was too busy dealing.

"Heya Blink-" he started before letting out a low whistle, "Nice one, Kid." Mush smiled, unable to avoid noticing a forming purple bruise under Blink's good eye.

"Yeah, thanks," Blink returned quickly from across the room, lacking any trace of humor.

Mush turned back to the game, sensing this one wasn't an accident and thinking better than to pursue it.

Race looked back up at Mush's observation. He didn't know what happened and he honestly didn't care. It was probably less than half of what Blinked deserved. The hours between that afternoon and night had left Race floating between complete denial that anything ever happened and cemented anger. Right now he was somewhere in the middle, though he had decided he would give Blink another chance. And what better time than the present. Besides, he knew every minute he sat on this might be doing untold damage. If Greene had a tie to the inside, it had to be known.

Race finished dealing the hand and looked over to Dutchy who was sitting next to him.

"You wanna give this a go for me?" Race said, not waiting for a response. He set the deck down and pushed his chair back to stand. He walked past the table, ignoring the mutterings of the Brooklyn boys wanting to win their money back, and found his way to the front.

"Hey, Blink, you got a minute?" Race caught him before he reached the stairway.

Blink stopped abruptly, caught off guard by the sound of the voice. He hadn't expected Race to come anywhere near him after that afternoon.

"Yeah," Blink crossed his arms, regarding Race uneasily, "I think so."

Race didn't know what he really wanted to say; he just wanted to feel Blink out. Almost to see if what happened earlier actually happened.

"How ya doin?" he asked.

"Doin' fine."

"What happened there?" Race tried again more directly, indicating his eye.

"Nothin'." Blink shrugged slightly

It was like pulling teeth. Whenever Race wanted to sleep, he couldn't get the kid to shut up fast enough and now, when he needed his answers the most, they weren't there.

"I'm leavin' Race," Blink said abruptly, causing Race to forget about his temporary frustration.

"What, now?" Race said, he wasn't expecting that, though it didn't come as a complete surprise. Sometimes they would leave for a few days if it got too crowded or if they wanted some trouble to blow over, which is what Race assumed this was. "How long?"

"I'm leavin'," he repeated, meeting Race's eyes for the first time. He was leaving for good.

"Why?" Race asked, though he knew why, at least in the way Blink would interpret the question. In his own way, that one word was asking how any of this had happened. Why Blink would have let it happen.

"My bein' here ain't safe no more," he said carefully, keeping his voice low.

Say it, Blink, just say it. It ain't safe here no more because I found you out. And the moment anyone else finds out, you're as good as dead, Race felt like telling him. There was really no other option for him but to leave, he knew it and Race knew it. But there had to be another option. He couldn't just leave, he couldn't just walk out on them.

"Maybe you should talk to Jack first, he's got a way of figurin' out-"

"No," Blink told him definitively, loud enough that it had caught the attention of those close enough to hear it and halted their conversations. Blink glanced to the faces that watched them, becoming conscious of the forming audience. He looked away as he met Mush's questioning gaze. He had wanted to leave unnoticed, it would have been easier for everyone.

"No," he repeated with whispered intensity as he pulled Race to the side. "It don't got nothin' to do with anyone but me."

As Blink spoke, Race could recognize him. He could feel the familiar way of his words, the way he tried to draw the trouble around him into himself. For a second, he saw again the way Blink was, the old Blink that he thought was gone.

"Then at least let me help you." Race couldn't understand why he wouldn't trust them. What would cause him to abandon everything without so much as a word of explanation?

"No. Race, I said stay out of it," he said with finality, his patience running thin. "Now are you gonna, or do I gotta make ya?" His voice turned a tinge threatening.

Race fell silent, that remark stung as much as if Blink had punched him right there. He searched Blink's face, trying to see if he meant it. He needed to know if this would be it, if this would be how they parted ways. But Blink's expression was unwavering and showed nothing. There was only one way he could know.

"Make me," Race dared.

"Mush," Dutchy warned him, starting to get up from his seat. Mush shook his head and held out his hand, signaling he should stay put. There was no way it would get out of hand. Race and Blink had been angry with each other before, but they always knew when to leave it and cool off.

Blink met Race's glare, his eyes flickering for a split second before his fist connected with Race's jaw.

Race staggered back and put his hand to his mouth. Blood coated his fingers and dripped from his lip, though he didn't register it for a few moments.

His eyes fell to the room. Their mouths were moving, but he couldn't hear what they were saying, only the throbbing in his head. He saw Mush pushing through the others toward them, an odd look on his face. He hadn't ever seen Mush look like that, it was a mixture of disbelief and distress that seemed out of place on his features. As he looked back down to his hand, he absently wondered what had happened to make Mush feel that way.

Staring at the red traces on his fingertips, a copper taste filled his mouth. It was then that he knew that Blink had actually done it. He steadied himself as he shook off the initial shock of the blow and the reality came rushing back to him. He narrowed his eyes, turning to face Blink.

A sudden impulse of rage filled his lungs as he drew in a deep breath. After all he had done for Blink, after all they had been through: this is what he got. Well, if Blink wanted a fight he would get one. Blink would see why nobody dare cheat him.

Nice knowin' ya, Blink, he seethed to himself as he pulled back his fist and released his anger into Blink's chest.