Mush curses, fury dancing in eyes. His whole weeks profit! He's partway out the window before he realizes that he has no chance of catching her. She'll be long gone by the time he gets to the end of the nearest alley. He opens his mouth to yell for the bulls, but immediately thinks better of it. He can't reconcile sending anyone to the Refuge, not even a thief.
Turning away, he slams his fist into the wall violently. He paces back to lean on the window sill, his grip hard on the cool wood. His good deed will cost him a couple of nights on the street until he can afford a room at the Lodgehouse again. If Wisel will spot him a few papes, that is . . .
He shoves the window shut and settles back onto the bed, waiting for his anger to fade. He folds his arms behind his head and shifts restlessly, one leg bent. Once Sarah no longer needs him to help out with chores at t no longer needs him, he'll start looking for the girl. Until then, he'll have to ask the rest of the Manhattan newsies to keep a sharp eye out for her.
Sway slows to a walk, savoring her victory. She's warmed by dark satisfaction. Her feet follow a familiar route, avoiding the hazy orange glow of the street lamps and skimming the shadows. The stolen coin purse is a comforting weight in her palm. After a few minutes walking, she reaches the Thieves Quarter. The usual smells of cigar smoke, heady alcohol, and cheap perfume reassure her. She heads straight for a nondescript, unmarked brownstone, known to her friends as the Rogues Palace. She raps confidently on the door, and a few more chips of paint flutter to the ground.
"It's Sway, let me in." Her voice is clear and lonely in the stillness. A brunette with a cocky smile opens the door. "Whatdya hear, Sway! Glad to see me?"
"Spin!" Sway cries joyfully. A smile breaks out on her face as she embraces her friend. "Since when have you been back?"
"I got outta the Refuge late this afternoon. Boy, was I was glad to see this old joint again!" Despite her uncommon expertise at thievery, Spin has spent time in the Refuge more than once. Her sweet smile and darling face cover a reckless spirit; Sway can do nothing but watch her keep pushing the limits, always willing to risk her life to pull off a bigger trick.
"Yeah, I almost landed myself a bunk there tonight. Tell ya about it in the morning, okay?" Sway says. She enters the Palace, relishing the warm glow of candlelight that greets her. She walks among the few occupants, seeking out Jitney and Emma until she finds them next to the brazier. Emma looks even worse than she did when Sway left. The fire casts a flickering glow over her pale skin and over-bright eyes.
"How's she holdin' up?" Sway feel the need to ask, however absurdly obvious it is. Jitney's eyes are old beyond her years and filled by an unspeakable sadness. Sway knows it kills her to see her little sister wasting away with fever.
"She's worse every day. Coughs so hard I think she's gonna just fall apart. I don't know how long I can stand it." She brushes a stand of golden hair back from Emma's face and kisses her forehead tenderly. Sway holds out her night's pickings to her.
"This should be more than enough to pay for the doctor, Jitney. Take it." Jitney's face lights up, hope sparking within her.
"You sure?" The other girl nods, smiling gently. "Lord, Sway, you're a lifesaver. How can I ever"
"No need. Just take her to the doctor tomorrow and get some rest, got it?" After assuring her that Emma will soon be bright and full of energy once more, Sway trudges up the stairs. She eases open the door to her room, careful not to wake the others. Though it's only slightly larger than the bed it contains, she knows how lucky she is to have one of the few private rooms.
She collapses onto her bed, looking suddenly frail against the tattered blue blanket. Despite her fatigue, sleep comes reluctantly. The face of the man dances before her eyes. What was his name? Mush. His words echo in her mind over and over. What good's the word of a thief?
Sway turns onto her side, punching her thin pillow into a better shape. Finally giving in to temptation, she yanks a small, bright flask from under her mattress and takes a swig. Just to relax, that's all. It's been a rough night. She welcomes the slow burn of the whiskey as it settles into a warm glow in her stomach. The world blurs slightly, making it seem softer. Sway slides slowly into unconsciousness.