"Hey!"

Vin woke with a hangover. It was the pounding type that made his head feel like it was going to split and the back of his eyes feel pressured like they were going to pop out of his head.

"Hey!"

He moaned as he tried to drift back to sleep. The headache that was forming in the top corners of his head did not entice him into getting out of bed. Another something that did little to help was the fact that Vito was standing over him, yelling in his ear and shaking him.

"Stop wit' tha yellin' for tha love a God." He groaned.

"Come on, ya bum, we're goin' ta Cusp."

"Youse outta ya mind? Ain't no way I'm goin' ta the bar wit'cha."

"We ain't goin' for drinks, stupid. Now get outta bed."

Vin sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

"Well, youse is clearly tha mornin' type." Vito smirked at him.

As they left the warehouse, Vin blinked rapidly as the sun from a cloudless day hit him full in the face. It was so bright, in his stupefied state, that for a moment he simply put a hand on Vito's shoulder and walked blindly behind him with his eyes shut. Vito looked back over his shoulder and, though he laughed at Vin, he didn't look a whole lot better off himself.

Vin wasn't really aware of getting to the bar, just putting one foot in front of the other and trying to will his headache back from whence it came. Vito talked non-stop, but Vin was only consciously aware of a low buzzing, little of which resembled words.

The dim light of the bar was a welcome change. Spot, Mitts and Soap sat side by side at the bar. They all looked as bad as he felt. Mitts actually had his chin down on his folded arms on the bar.

"Guess we had a little too much." Spot greeted them as they entered.

"A little?" Sam asked in a high-pitched, incredulous voice. "Mitts had a whole bottle on his own."

Mitts winced. Either at the accusation or the high-tone, Vin wasn't sure. He sank onto a bar stool next to Soap and smiled at Sam, who flashed him a radiant smile back from across the bar.

"Well, you don't look as bad as Mitts." She said lightly. "But I think you could all use a 'Sam'."

Vin lifted an eyebrow slightly at her as she busied herself with glasses. Vito elbowed Vin in the ribs.

"Don't get no ideas now."

"I wasn't." Vin said defensively as the rest of the boys laughed.

Vin watched Sam mix something that included bananas, strawberries, milk, orange juice and honey. He wondered vaguely when he had any of those things last. He wasn't sure he would have been able to remember even if his brain hadn't been working so slowly.

She set tall glasses of the thick, pink-ish liquid in front of each of them. Despite the fact that it was incredibly sweet, he began to feel better almost immediately.

Spot had taken his almost in one. As he set his empty glass back down and gulped for air, he shook his head at Sam who had rounded the end of the bar with a wet rag. He got up from his stool and moved over to where she was wiping down one of the tables.

"Youse are an angel." He told her, planting a kiss on her cheek that she accepted with good grace.

"So, Soap, youse gonna talk ta Vin?" He said, turning back around.

"Yea." Soap said slowly, lowering his own glass. "We was jus' talkin' 'bout what youse said last night."

"Oh, yea?"

"Yea. We don't know if it can be done, but we agreed dat ain't nothin' gonna change if we jus' sit here and gripe 'bout it."

"Gripe about what?" Sam asked curiously.

Soap shot Sam a look that told her clearly to mind her own business, but she ignored it.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Soap sighed lightly and Vin saw his eyes flick to Spot.

"C'mon, let's dance, Sam." He said, taking her hand and smiling charmingly.

"You're not gonna tell me?" She asked him disbelievingly.

Spot simply smiled again and pulled her toward the stage with him. Vin saw him turn on the old phonograph in the corner and pull Sam close to him. For a fraction of a second, Vin felt jealousy burn near his stomach. He hastily pushed it aside, wondering why it had rushed there in the first place. The feeling was quickly replaced with surprised amusement over the fact that Spot could waltz.

"So what's next?" Vito asked softly, under cover of the music droning from the phonograph.

The four boys left at the bar stared at Vin.

"What'cha lookin' at me for?"

"I dunno, seemed like youse had all tha ideas last night." Soap said.

"Well- we's gotta get some people on our side. Dat's for sure. Tha newsies inside a Brooklyn and outside too- if we can manage it." Vin said slowly.

"I can talk ta Scraps." Vito volunteered at once. "I'm always down dere anyhow. Know dose boys pretty well."

"And I'll take Blue." Soap added.

"I'll deal wit' 'Hattan and tha Bronx den. Maybe East Side, Midtown and Harlem on tha way." Mitts said matter-of-factly, polishing off the rest of his 'Sam'.

Vin looked at him questioningly. He had just volunteered to talk to half the state. Mitts glanced at him and shrugged.

"I know dem." he said lightly.

Soap grinned and waved an airy hand.

"Mitts has his eyes and ears in everyone's business." He explained.

"What? It's useful."

"Neva said it wasn't."

"So we'll meet back at tha warehouse lata?"

"Might not be back tonight." Mitts said with a sigh. "Long way ta the Bronx and back."

Soap nodded thoughtfully and then raised his voice and called to Spot.

"Youse gonna rub against Sam all day? C'mon we got work ta do." He said getting to his feet.

Spot disentangled himself from Sam, gave her a small, apologetic smile and joined them as they made for the door. Vin glanced over his shoulder at her as they left the bar. She looked alone and small standing there on the stage where Spot had left her. Her eyebrows were knit in a worried expression.