Days had gone by without much to speak of, and Blink's black eye was slowly healing. He'd decided to return to his usual selling spot in the marketplace more out of habit and the fact that all the good selling spots were taken rather than an actual desire to be there.

The headlines today were good, detailing the pardoning of some Jew in France who'd been accused of treason and something called espionage, and Blink, being the cunning salesperson he was, had twisted it around, saying there was a criminal, a madman, loose on the streets. With this, the newspapers practically turned into cash on their own in his hand. Who cared if France wasn't anywhere near New York?

It was a good day. A very good day, Blink thought to himself with a self-assured grin. There was even a group of girls from one of those rich-folks' schools taking an interest in him, which only boosted his view of the day. Of course, Blink had had enough of rich girls, but a man couldn't help but appreciate a pretty girl when he saw one, so Blink merely tipped his cap and kept his distance, wandering through the square with a cheery whistle on his lips.

Until one of the schoolgirls decided to make a move.

"So, is he dangerous?" Blink stopped dead in his tracks. He hoped, he prayed that it was just a girl interested in a newspaper, but still found himself incapable of turning around.

He cleared his throat, pulled off his cap and scratched his head nervously. "Is, uh, is who dangerous?"

"This criminal-gone-free you've been yelling about all afternoon." A familiar hand landed on his shoulder, warm against the September air. "Blink, talk to me."

"Evie, I ain't even s'posed to be lookin' at you."

"And since when do you do anything Joseph Pulitzer tells you to do?"

"The man could have me thrown in the refuge for even bein' anywhere close to you." He turned around, looked pleadingly at her. "Evie, really, I can't see you no more."

"Then why did you save your last paper for me?" She pulled the newspaper from his hand, replacing it with a penny. "We need to talk, Blink, please."

"I can't. Not here, not now." He shoved the coin into his pocket, glancing around the marketplace for anyone who might give him grief.

"Then let me meet you tonight. At the lodging house."

"Look, Evie, I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Nothing we've ever done has been a good idea. That's what's so great about us, Blink. Ten o'clock, on the roof." And she turned to walk away.

"Evie, I--" But she was gone, lost in the crowd.

With a sigh, Blink headed cheerlessly for home. His good day had taken a particularly sour turn, but at least he'd sold all of his papers.

It was a celebratory night at Duane Street, the newsboys being so grateful for such spectacular selling that day that the greater part of them had pooled their earnings toward a night of general rowdy drunkenness.

Blink sat slumped in a chair in the common room, a glass of cheap beer in his hand. He was irritated, depressed, and more than a little intoxicated, and was staring intently at the clock, wondering whether he'd actually go out for his little meeting or stay put and probably give in to unconsciousness before the night was through.

"Blinky, my boy!" Racetrack's words were slurred slightly but still mostly comprehensible. This was a night of fun and mischief, and a sullen, boring Blink just would not do. "Drink up, get happy!" He landed a friendly punch to Blink's shoulder, but in his mild state of inebriation, the punch was harder than he intended and nearly knocked Blink off his chair.

"Ow, Race!" Blink rubbed his shoulder, and when Racetrack pointed to the glass, he begrudgingly lifted it to his lips and glared at his comrade over the rim. "You happy now?"

"Don't be such a sour-puss, Blinky," Skittery chimed in, his voice unnecessarily loud thanks to the low-priced liquor. "Why're you in such a bad mood lately?"

"You're one to talk, Skitts," Blink grumbled, standing up. He glared at the grandfather clock across the room, and set his drink down on the table with a nervous exhale. "I'm gonna go get some air." He started up the stairs, hoping his bad attitude wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass in the morning. If anyone were coherent enough to remember the evening, that is.

"Ya want me to come with you?" Mush, possibly the only sober one of the group, turned his friendly eyes to Blink. "You don't look so good, pal."

"Nah." Blink shook his head, heading up the stairs. "I'll be alright."

A/N: I'm really very proud of this chapter. I love it. I was going to make it longer, but I decided to be mean and force you to STAY TUNED for another rooftop rendezvous... of a different sort! Ahhh. Anyway, my lovelies (aka all FOUR reviewers, read 'em and weep!), you know what you're supposed to do! I love you all! -Layne