Blink crept back in the room after Race left. He'd given permission for her to have visitors, but only two at a time, he'd deemed, and not until tomorrow. Silently he shut the door and stole over to the stool sitting by her bed.

She was sleeping. Peace was personified in her face as a small smile tickled the corners of her mouth. Those grey eyes behind the closed lids would be laughing at him right now if she knew what he was thinking. He let out a prolonged sigh and gently eased his hand over the feminine one on the counterpane. Rough, hardened, scarred calluses brushed rough, hardened, scarred hand. At that simple touch, Red stirred. Blink quickly withdrew his hand. Shortly Red's eyes opened, then widened at Blink's presence for a few seconds. With normal eyes, she motioned to the soup cooling on her nightstand.

"Eat."

Blink shook his head. "No. Dat's yers."

Red raised herself to glare at him. "Den go git yer own. Ya hain't eaten fer almost three days on account o' me, an' I don' mean fer it ta become four."

Blink's eye glanced at her dubiously. He hesitated, then deliberately placed his hand over hers. "How do ya know dat?"

She put on a deadpan stare. "I have eyes, Kid. Y'almost look like a skeleton. Now git."

Blink willingly shot out of the room. A few minutes later he was back with more soup. He balanced the bowl in his hands and hungrily wolfed it down. In between slurps he caught her up on the news around the House.

"—an' jist an hour ago, Skitts caught Oscar Delancy in da alleyway behind the house. He prolly walked out wit some bruises an' a shina, looked like his wrist was hoit. Kinda looked like you." Blink drained his bowl, missing the paled expression that crossed her face. As he wiped his face, she let out a breath and remembered her place. Why she was here, why she'd been bedridden. She dropped into a happy-go-lucky front and smiled encouragingly.

"Which one's the he?"

"Oscar. Skitts is foine. Always been. He was born ready." He paused, then offered, "If'n ya wanna see 'im right now, dat's fine. 'E's prolly been da most worried o' all o' us." Not includin' me, he added silently.

A look of almost relief passed over her face. "Dat woul' be good."

Blink nodded resignedly. "Shoah. I kin do dat."

- - - - - - - -

Skittery walked calmly in, closing the door behind him. He stayed by the shut portal, nervously twisting his cap in his hands. Red let a small grin wander onto her face.

"Y'ok?" Red asked.

"I shoul' be askin' you dat." He shoved his hands into his back pockets along with his hat. Red raised her knees halfway to her chest.

"I'm foine." A pause. "Thanks fo' yer 'elp."

"Las' night?"

"Yeah." Another prolonged pause. Skittery turned to go, thinking she was done. Her next words stopped him with a hand on the doorknob. "Ya know, ya got da wrong guy."

He turned back, a look between confusion and disbelief shadowing his face. "What?"

"Oscar didn't do it."

His fist clenched involuntarily. A muscle in his jaw jumped. "Dey desoive what dey git."

"Matt 5, Skitts. I know you know it."

Unwittingly, his mind recited the verse he'd memorized so long ago. Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.

He sank to the floor, leaning against the wall. "I hate it when ya pull dat on me."

A small chuckle came from the petite figure in bed. "We all do." She paused, then intoned thoughtfully, "We all gots ta woik on dat one, Skitts."

Skittery nodded, rose to his feet, and walked over to Red. "Thanks." He turned, indecisive in his next action, then finally turned back to her. He quickly hugged her then walked out the door, tugging on his hat as he did.

Red watched his resigned retreat, allowing a small smile tip the corners of her mouth upward.