A/N: I'm back! And I fixed the hedgehog thing in the last chapter. XD Enjoy.

Scipio returned the next day, a sack slung over one shoulder as usual. He was greeted this time by Prosper, who gave a smile that seemed to simply be for courtesy and allowed him entrance. Bo soon appeared as well, knowing that Scipio was the only person who ever visited the Stella. "Hey, Scip!" he beamed, staring up at him from under his avalanche of curly hair. "What've you got?" Scipio grinned and set the bag in between Mosca, Riccio and Hornet once he was further inside.

"How is she?" He sent a quick glance up to the balcony where they slept. Riccio shrugged.

"You mean that girl? Still sleeping."

"We found some nasty bruises on her this morning," added Prosper, "But she looks okay otherwise. I think the color in her cheeks is coming back, too." Scipio nodded.

"Could be worse, I suppose." He reached down and began to refill the sack; its contents having been spilled out by Mosca minutes after he had set it down. "We need to go to Barbarossa's," he announced. "One of you needs to stay behind in case she wakes up." His cohorts exchanged glances, none of them actually wanting to stay behind while their friends were out. "Riccio," He decided.

Riccio looked up. "What? Why me?" Scipio didn't answer; he was already at the door, the rest of the gang at his heels.

"Bolt the door. And for god's sake, ask for the password!" Riccio sighed. He walked over and bolted the door, just as Scipio had told him to and made his way to the balcony. She wouldn't wake up in the next few hours anyways; he was sure of it. He didn't see why he had to stay behind.

He stared resentfully at the dark-haired corpse of a girl before taking a seat next to her. "Looks like you and I have something in common at the moment," he said to her, although unsure as to whether or not she could hear him. "The name's Riccio." She didn't answer. Figures, thought Riccio.

He once again began to scrutinize her, having only seen a few things in their brief examination of her earlier that day. Now that he was looking closer, he could see small – enough so that they were already beginning to heal- scrapes on her arms, legs and face. He also noticed that one of her ankles was slightly swollen, although he wasn't sure if that meant it was twisted or broken. He hoped for twisted; it would get her out faster.

He suddenly noticed something flash. A beam of sunlight had fallen through the roof and was pointing directly at the base of her neck. He reached for the object that was causing the glare and found a long sterling silver chain, at the end of which was a figure of a crescent moon. Riccio grinned. We'll probably get a fortune for this.

XXX

It was a little over an hour later when Riccio heard the ringing of the bell, meaning he had company. He stood himself up and raced down the stairs and over to the door. "Password?" he inquired. He heard a muffled response come from the other side and, assuming it was correct (he hadn't a clue what it was himself), he unlatched and threw open the door.

Immediately he found himself staring up a black beak, into the masked eyes of a smiling Scipio. He and the others marched into the seemingly abandoned theater, leaving Riccio to re-latch the door.

"Prosper is a genius!" Exclaimed Scipio, displaying the money made from their trip to Barbarossa's shop. Prosper grinned to himself, as proud of his bargaining skills as the others were grateful.

"Looks like it went well," Riccio observed. Bo nodded enthusiastically.

"Prop made Barbarossa double what he was going to pay!" He beamed up at his older brother. "He deserved it. He was mean, anyways." Scipio turned to face Riccio.

"Anything happen?" Riccio blinked.

"Oh, with her?" He asked suddenly. "Oh, yeah. She woke up and everything." Scipio's eye went wide as saucers. Riccio could tell he was about to run up there himself.

"She did?" He cracked an odd, boyish grin and chuckled to himself.

"Nah. Out cold the whole time. She has a swollen ankle, though. And some scratches." Scipio nodded, although his face was a mixture of disappointment and anger. "Then we'll have to look at them. Later. Right now, we celebrate!"

"You'll never believe what else I found." Riccio's voice sounded weak compared to Scipio's warm, excited one. They all stared at Riccio expectantly as he produced the same silver chain from his pocket. "She had it around her neck. I bet Prop could get Barbarossa to pay a fortune for it!" His colleagues' faces lit up excitedly, but Scipio frowned.

"We'll not sell it," he said with finality. They turned their gazes to him; he was supposed to be a good business man, so why would he turn down a guaranteed sale? "Think about it; do we steal from each other?" Riccio spoke up once again.

"She isn't-"

"She's one of us," Scipio interrupted. "At least for now, if not longer. Do we sell Hornet's books? Or Mosca's radio?" Silence. He nodded. "Exactly. So we'll not sell it. We'll return it when she wakes up."

"If she wakes up," Mosca pointed out.

"When she wakes up." And with that, Scipio strutted out, partly drunk on authority.

XXX

The next few days took a similar turn, routine-wise. The gang each took turns on alert -with the exception of Bo, of course- until it came to Prosper's turn. He had been sitting on the balcony, reading one of Hornet's books. So little had happened that he had nearly forgotten what he had stayed behind to do. His hand was buried in his pocket, his fingers wrapped around the chain, when suddenly he heard a grunt and a sharp exhale. He turned his eyes away from his book and looked straight into a giant pair of bright green eyes.