The afternoon was hot and painstakingly slow. Normally, Blink would have been headed for home by this time of day, but here he was, standing in the middle of the marketplace, still calling out the day's mundane headlines. At least ten newspapers were still tucked under his arm, taunting him, mocking him for his inability to sell them.

"I'll take one of those," a voice from behind him said. He spun around to meet familiar, sad, Irish-whiskey eyes. "Provided that you're still willing to talk to me."

"I ain't decided yet on that one, but I can't afford to turn down a sale right now." He pulled a paper out and handed it to her. "That's a penny. Page three ain't bad."

As she handed him a coin, Evie sighed. "Listen, Zacharias."

"I don't remember sayin' you could call me that."

"Fine. Blink. Listen, it's not like I wanted to be with him."

"You didn't exactly look like you was fightin' him off." With his jaw set and his mind ready to fight, he looked her over. "Who is he?"

"William Browne Post. My grandfather set us up. Um, his father built the World Building."

"La-dee-da, Evie. You didn't answer my question. Who is he?"

"According to my grandfather, he's my fiance."

"Uh-huh. Look, Evie, I gotta go. I got work to do. See you around."

"My family's making me do this, Blink, I don't want to."

"Then don't, Evelyn. It's as simple as that." He turned on his heel and began to walk away, tears threatening to take over.

"I don't have a choice!" Her cry sounded against his back, and he barely glanced over his shoulder as he answered.

"Sure you do." And he lost himself in the crowd.

As morning came, the Manhattan newsboys were already crowded around the distribution center. The voices of a hundred teenage boys mixed with the sounds of the streets to create the comforting cacophony that was New York City. But amid all this was a sound that was rather out of place this early in the morning: the distinctive ringing of a bicycle bell.

Blink stood with Racetrack, Jack, Pie Eater, and Mush, reviewing and joking about the day's headlines. An officeboy, his clothes clean and pressed and his face scrubbed, apprehensively approached them, looking clearly out of his element.

"Any of you boys call ya'self Kid Blink?" The boy attempted, and failed, to cover his thick New York accent with a holier-than-thou attitude.

"'Pends on who's askin'," Racetrack replied with a sly grin.

Blink merely elbowed Race lightly in the ribcage before folding his newspaper. "That'd be me. Whattaya want?"

"I, uh..." He stuttered, suddenly aware of all the unfriendly eyes that had by now realized someone new was on their turf. The boy cleared his throat, straightened, and went on. "Mr. Pulitzer would like to see you in his office as soon as possible."

"He would, would he?" Blink flashed an easy grin, making a show of stacking his papers neatly and looking around at his comrades. "Maybe I'm gettin' me a raise, fellas." And with a chuckle from the newsboys, he followed the glorified messenger down the street.

A/N: Not much to say here. I kind of like this chapter! I've got a good start on the next one, so keep your eyes peeled for a new chappy! And please, R&R! -Layne