The night was really still. Like, you could hear all the bugs and stuff. Maybe it was bugs or maybe it was cats or something. But either way, the night was still. There was no wind and it just hung like a wet towel over the entire city. It made Blink restless. He tossed and turned in the bunk, nearly falling off at one point. Racetrack—who slept under him—had already complained about his constant tossing and turning. But it was hard to sleep with his eye patch pressing hotly into his skin and those bug-cats out there, mewling and buzzing freakishly. He needed to get out. Still dressed in his black sleep socks and white longjohns, Blink rose and dropped to the floor. The floorboards creaked under his feet but none of the boys awoke. The only one who came close was Bumlets who grumbled and rolled over but he was a notoriously light sleeper—who hated to be woken up. Go figure.

Trying to imitate the bug-cats, Blink crept out of the bunk and down the creaky stairs, to breathe in fresh night air. Except it wasn't fresh. The sewers were backed up and a heavy, cloying smell filled the air. But at least he was up.

"Well, well," a voice broke through the solid night. "I come lookin' for a cowboy and all's I find is a one-eyed cat."

Blink turned to see Spot Conlon slipping through the dark, not unlike a cat himself, grinning although his tone betrayed nothing jocular.

"Hi Spot," he said, smiling widely with his clownish mouth. "Why'd ya need to see Jack?"

He shrugged. "Some of my boys've gone missing. I wanted to see if any of Jacky boy's have too."

Blink shook his head. "Nope. We're all here. I think. I can only see half of us unless I turn my head."

Spot laughed and smiled which surprised Blink. Spot wasn't a funny guy, at least, not one to laugh at other people's jokes. If on the rare occasion he made a joke, he'd laugh about it himself.

"Yeah," he let his smile fade away. "But I'm worried. You know, where'd they go? They count on me and if some are gone the others might desert."

He spoke wistfully into the night like an old Civil War general whose men had all but died on him. Blink could almost see Spot in the Union uniform, guns blazing. It was nice.

"They trust you," he said, smiling wider. "They'll know that you'll know what to do."

"You know, Kid, that makes a lot sense," Spot declared. "In a weird way."

Blink nodded. "So…um…"

He let his voice trail away, dissipating into the night, not knowing what else to say. Spot looked at him. In the dark, his eyes seemed less intense, less frightening. He looked like a little boy. Blink felt gawky and weird in the presence of Spot's nighttime fragility. Like, one touch and he'd break. In the daytime, Spot was frightening and hot like iron. Unbreakable, unflappable, intimidating. This was much better. They stared at each other for a long time, not saying anything.

"So Blink," Spot said suddenly. "Why are you out here?"

"Couldn't sleep," he answered. "Why are you still here?"

He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. Spot curled his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. Blink swallowed but his mouth was dry and his tongue made a weird clicking sound in the back of his throat. Then he felt his head be jerked violently forward as Spot leaned up and yanked it down so their lips could meet. Blink felt euphoria and fear rip through his body as he slowly worked his arms around Spot's middle. After a few minutes that each felt like blissful eternity, Spot let up.

"Pleasant dreams, Kid," he said with a smirk, turning to go.