Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.

The Lodging House was even noisier than usual when they reached Brooklyn, Pocket and Racetrack could hear the drunken shouts and laughter from outside. She banged on the door until one of the older boys poked his head out.

"What happened to you?" he asked, nodding at her bandaged shoulder.

"Just a disagreement," she told him. "Ya gonna let me in, Seb?"

He didn't move from eh doorway, and Pocket couldn't see around him to look for Spot.

"Whatcha want?" the stocky newsie questioned.

"Gotta talk to him."

"He ain't been in the best of moods since he got back," Seb said, eyeing her suspiciously. "Got any idea why?"

"Why dontcha ask him?" she countered.

"Already did." The Brooklyn boy glared at Racetrack. "Hoid about Kelly," he commented. "Figured that's what was buggin him. But Two-Bit asked where you was and that didn't make him happy. Knew ya was hoit, thought maybe that was it, but I can see ya ain't too bad off, so maybe it's somethin else. I'm bettin ya know somethin."

"It's possible," she answered flatly. "But I ain't discussin it with you."

"Yeah, but I ain't so sure ya wanna come in now, with him mad as he is."

Pocket gave an impatient snort. "Ya gettin on my noives Seb. Now let me in before ya make me angry."

Head tilted, he seemed to be undecided. "Well I can't be sure he wants ta talk. Here," he snagged a beer from a passing newsie and handed it to her. "You two can wait there and I'll go tell him you'se here. If he wants ta see ya, I'll let ya come in."

Seb tried to close the door but Pocket was quicker. She slid past him and pushed her way into the lodging house. Racetrack took advantage of the Brooklynite's surprise to duck in also. Pocket stopped made her way through the crowded tables, eyes roaming the room. Race looked around too, but he didn't see Spot anywhere. A soft gasp from Pocket caught his attention. She stood at the far side of the room, eyes wide.

He followed her gaze to where the Brooklyn leader was coming down the stairs, a simpering blonde draped all over him. Spot hadn't noticed Pocket yet, and she took a step to the side, watching him. Shirtless, with his pants half unbuttoned and his suspenders hanging at his sides, he raised his hand to smooth his tousled hair. Pocket stood frozen as the two reached the bottom. Her good hand tightened around the neck of the beer bottle she held.

Spot whispered something the girl, his mouth next to her ear. She nodded and planted a kiss on his cheek before prancing over to a group of giggling girls, a smug smile on her pointy face.

SMASH!

Glass and beer flew everywhere as the bottle splintered against the wall above Spot's head. He jerked his head around, looking for the source of the attack. The entire room fell silent as he locked eyes with Pocket.

Pocket said nothing, just stared at him for a long, tense moment. He stared silently back. She turned to look at the blonde, and took a half step forward, then stopped. She spun on her heel and walked out without a backward glance.

The sound of the door slamming made Spot jump. He staggered after her, wobbling drunkenly as someone stepped in front of him. A fist crashed into his face, knocking him to the ground. Immediately his newsies rushed forward.

Spot shook his head to clear it, he knew before he looked up who had thrown the punch. His boys had Racetrack by the arms. One of the boys raised his hand, ready to soak the little upstart who dared to attack the king.

"Don't."

They all froze.

"Let him go," Spot said.

Confused, they turned to stare at their leader, who sat slumped on the floor, elbows braced on his knees. He rubbed his face tiredly and looked up at Race.

The scrappy Italian shrugged off the arms that held him. Spot started to speak but Racetrack shook his head and walked away. At the door, he turned, his face troubled as he struggled with some internal battle. Finally he seemed to reach a decision, and he looked over at his Spot.

For once, the Brooklyn leader couldn't hold his stare. Lowering his head, he hid from the scorn he saw in his friend's eyes. Spot flinched when he heard Racetrack spit on the floor, but didn't react to the deliberate insult. He didn't look up until he heard the door slam for the second time that night.