Author's Note: Well, thankfully this was up waaaaaaay earlier than I put up chapter two, ha ha, and Spot makes his first appearance! and there's also lots of Blink! yay for them! they rock my socks! And thank you for all the wonderful reviews! they make me quite happy :D

Disclaimer: Sinker is mine...sadly I don't own Blink, Mush OR Spot...nor do I possess the rest of the newsies

Sinker walked around the crowded and deafening Irving Hall by herself. It was when Blink and she arrived that afternoon at Tibby's that they had learned of the spur-of-the-moment party that Manhattan was throwing at Medda's. Now that it was in full swing she was having trouble finding any newsies that she knew well enough to hang around with. Blink and a couple of the other boys had stayed back at the lodging house longer than the rest in order to get ready, for all of them were set on getting a girl. Sinker rolled her eyes. Boys. She couldn't find Mush anywhere; he had disappeared almost immediately when they had arrived. Jack was off talking to Medda with David, who was unable to take his eyes off the performer. Little Les was grabbing as much food as ha could from what Medda had set out on tables for the newsies. Most of the other newsies she only recognized and couldn't place a name.

Just as she was about to give up on the party, someone at the table she had just passed called out her name. Turning, she saw Racetrack grinning up at her. He held a deck of cards and seemed profusely happy. "I'll deal ya in," he smooth-talked, patting the chair between him and Snitch.

Sinker obliged, and then looked up at the third boy at the table, seated directly across from her. His cool grayish-blue eyes were already upon her, calculating something. He smirked as he leaned back in his chair, the red suspenders he wore straining with his movement. "Prepare ta lose," he informed her slickly.

She raised an eyebrow, picking up the cards Race had set in front of her. "A'right," Race's voice boomed around his cigar. "We'se bettin' on the cards you'se hold in ya hands. Ya all in?"

Snitch threw his weak hand on the table, shaking his head and crossing his arms, staring at Sinker to see what she would do. Sinker glanced down at her cards, nodding. "I'm in," she glared across the table, right at the calm and unfazed newsie.

Race did the same as Snitch had done with his cards, only with more anger and zest. All eyes rested upon the newsie that Sinker didn't recognize. His smirk came easily as he nodded his involvement.

Sinker laid her cards down at the same time the boy did. A triumphant smile broke across her face as she collected the few pennies she had earned. Brave from her win she mocked the boy sitting across the table before thinking. "I'm sorry, but what was that ya said about 'preparing ta lose'? Yeah, maybe ya shoulda took ya own advice." She grinned, not that it had been the wittiest statement she had ever uttered, but because the boy's reaction was amusing.

At first, hate flashed across his face, hardening his eyes, but just as fast a cool, calm came over him. He gained his composure, then shrugged, the smirk returning yet again.

It wasn't until she noticed the bystanding newsie's expressions and comments that Sinker began to feel hideously uncomfortable. Race's cigar had dropped from his mouth and was laying, smoldering, on the cards before him. He couldn't seem to decide who to watch: the boy or Sinker. Snitch looked to be doing some sort of 'potty-dance' where he was seated, clearly wanting to get away. The whispers were discomforting as well.

"Did you hear what she said?"

"And to him of all people!"

The smirking boy stood up, and Sinker felt the need to stand as well. "I'm Spot Conlon. The King of Brooklyn," he stated. Sinker froze, horrified. Even she knew of Spot and the respect he had among the newsie world. Spot spit in his palm. "And that was a nice hand ya had." He grinned, extending his arm to be shook, relieving the tension in the area.

"Lucky," Sinker heard Race mutter under his breath as the two shook hands.

Sinker's face was burning form embarrassment. "Sorry, about that…" she apologized quietly. "I'm not usually so…rude. I guess it just went to my head for some reason…"

Spot waved her words away casually, coming around the table. "Don't worry 'bout it," he said, offering her his arm and leading her over to where drinks were being served.

They leaned against the table, surveying the crowd as they sipped their drinks. "So," Spot spoke up, breaking the silence between them. "Whaddaya doin' as a newsie? Obviously you'se have no idea what you'se is doin', considerin' ya didn' even know me."

Sinker peered over at the leader. "Well whaddaya doin' in 'Hattan if you'se is the leadah of Brooklyn?" she asked, avoiding Spot's question.

Spot noted her avoidance, but let it go, figuring he could always delve into it later. "In case ya haven't noticed, this is a party, half the newsies heah are from Brooklyn. Plus, 'Hattan and Brooklyn are close associates. We'se always getting' tagethah," he told the new girl. "So you'se best get used ta seein' me."

The way Spot said the last sentence made goose bumps rise upon Sinker's skin. She couldn't decipher whether or not his tone was jokey or threatening. His haughty smirk made her quite uncomfortable and the way he slowly raked his eyes up and down her figure made her squirm. He licked his lips slowly after taking a swig of the drink in his hand, never once taking his eyes off of Sinker. "Ya wanna dance," he asked, making the simple question sound like a dare.

No. No she did not want to dance with Spot. Something about the way his smirk was, something about the way he carried himself as a superior being, something about the way that his eyes always had a hint of coldness in them, sent her stomach to churning oddly. And Sinker wasn't sure if it was good or not.

She tore her eyes from his for a second, catching sight of a slightly tipsy Mush bouncing past. She grabbed his arm. "Mush! 'Ey!" she yelled to get his further attention.

He blinked a few times in the dim light, then happily exclaimed, "SINK!" attacking her in a sweaty bear hug, crushing the air out of her with his muscular arms.

Spot watched this all with a cool air about him, not shaken a bit at Sinker's obvious, soon-to-be, refusal. This didn't deter Spot in the least; if anything, this rejection fueled Spot's competitive nature, and this made him smirk all the more.

Sinker, once released from Mush's vice grip, turned back to Spot with a shrug, "Aw, too bad, I forgot I had promised Mush a dance…maybe next time!" She shoved Mush, who had been standing, very confused, trying to figure out when Sinker had promised him a dance, through the crowd.

"When did ya say you'se was gonna dance with me?" Mush asked, scratching his head.

"Oh, uh, this morning," Sinker hastily replied.

Mush nodded in understanding, then came to a dead stop. "We didn' have the party planned this morning…" He furrowed his brow, trying to remember.

Sinker glanced back to the drink table. Spot was still there, smirking, and he winked, lifting his glass as if to toast her, then took a long, hearty drink. He smiled back at her, lips wet. Sinker returned her attention to Mush frantically, "Oh, well ya must not recall!"

Mush frowned. "Maybe you're right…"

Sinker pushed the boy further into the masses. She could feel Spot's eyes following the pair, so she dragged Mush to the front doors, just in time to meet the second wave of newsies heading for the party, gaily led by Kid Blink, who was grinning form ear to ear. He put an arm around each of their shoulders. "Mush," he said questioningly, "Ain't this ya favorite song?"

Mush looked around, "Yeah, yeah it is…"

Blink cocked his head, "Then whaddaya doin' leavin'?"

"I wasn't leavin'…" the poor newsboy looked at the entrance doors that he had been heading towards. "I—I—I… I'm just so confused!" Mush clasped his hands to his head, not understanding what was going on.

Blink patted him on the shoulders. "Oh, Mush, I told ya ta lay off the drinks…" He shook his head at the boy tweaking out. He steered Sinker and Mush back in the direction of the party, in which Mush took off sprinting, laughing joyously and belting out the words along with Medda, forgetting all discomfort he had previously been in.

Sinker couldn't help but smile at her new-found happy-go-lucky friend. Then, realizing that Blink was still directing her towards the open hall, she halted, protesting, "Blink, I think I'm gonna—"

"Oh, c'mon, one dance," Blink faced her, showing his winning smile.

Sinker shrugged, her resolve fading, "I don' know, I'm kinda tired…"

Blink settled his hands on her shoulders. "One dance and I'll walk ya back ta the lodgin' house meself," he promised.

Sinker stared him straight in the eye. "One dance," she agreed, holding up her pointer finger for emphasis.

Blink smiled, offering her his arm so that he could escort Sinker through the party. She shook her head, but laughed none-the-less, allowing herself to trail behind Blink until they found a space on the floor. Medda was beginning a slow ballad, much to Blink and Sinker's surprise.

Blink gave her a sheepish look. "Er…" he didn't know what to say. Hesitantly, Sinker took the lead, wrapping her arms around his neck. Blink shyly let his hands rest on her slight hips, blushing as he did so, making Sinker's cheeks turn pink as well.

"So, uh, why was it ya wanted ta leave again?" Blink started saying as they swayed in place.

"Tired," she replied automatically.

"Oh," Blink nodded, looking around the room absently.

Something about Blinks' sweet demeanor triggered an impulse in Sink. She had the sudden urge to open up and tell him why she really wanted to leave, and not some stupid story involving fatigue. She cleared her throat, catching Blink's attention. "Um, actually, I wanted to leave because of Spot," she quietly confided in Blink.

Blink was taken aback. "Did he do somethin' ta ya?" he demanded worriedly.

"No, no!" Sinker quickly set Blink straight. "He just, uh, makes me a little noivous."

Blink chuckled, "He has that effect on people."

Five songs later and the duo were still dancing with each other. Spot was perched up in one of the balconies, eating an apple, and watching the masses with the eyes of a man much older than the boy whom possessed them. Yet his thought process, even he admitted, was a bit juvenile.

The jealously he felt for Blink burned through him, flustering him to no end. He had only just met Sinker, and her rejection hadn't fazed him—or so he wanted to think. And yet deep down, he knew that it had wounded his usually impenetrable pride.

His eagle eye honed in on Blink and Sinker again. They were considerably closer now than when they had awkwardly started out. There was less than an inch between their bodies and never once did their eyes wander as they muttered whatever it was that they were saying to each other. The lovey dovey shit made Spot grimace. He wasn't one to go for that. He was much more of a one-nighter guy. And the girls he associated with had no problems with that. Of course, they never said no to him either…

"Blink?"

The edges of the newsboy's mouth curved skyward. "Hmm?"

Sinker gulped, unsure if the topic she was about to venture into was sensitive or not. "Are ya really…ya know…do ya really only have…one eye?" she wanted to look away, but Blink's baby blue held her gaze.

He didn't answer right away and she felt a painful twist in her stomach. She was such an idiot! Why did she have to let her big ole mouth blurt out that question? Out of the millions she could have asked, she just had to have let that one fly. Before she could blubber out an apology, Blink spoke.

"Yeah, I'se only got one eye," he whispered, Sinker leaned in closer to hear, their noses barely touching. "I got inta a tussle when I was youngah, didn' really know what I was doin'." He gave a light chuckled. "It's all fun 'n games till someone loses an eye." Then a question that had burned into his brain after Sinker had asked about his eye popped out. "Does it mattah? Does it change anythin'? Knowin' that I don' have an eye, that I ain't just wearin' the patch for sellin' papes. Does it mattah?" His tone was so sorrowful, as if begging her to say no.

Sinker found herself tracing Blink's face with her right hand, caressing his cheek. Blink pressed his face to her palm. Slowly, Sink moved her fingertips up to the patch, gently outlining its edges. Blink closed his one eye, marveling at how pleasing it felt to be touched so innocently, so simply like that.

"No," she whispered. "It doesn't mattah."

Blink's eyelid fluttered open. He looked into her eyes, those beautiful almond-shaped eyes of hers, and then pressed his lips to hers. For once, Sinker didn't tense up or over think; for once, she let go of everything else and enjoyed this moment with Blink. She sighed, kissing him back.

Spot spit from the balcony, catching a small newsie in orange on the head, sending him running in hysterics to Skittery, yelling about how the sky was falling.

Author's Note: The end of chapter three! lol, I had to had that last sentence to make me feel better about the ending being so mushy (and no, not our favorite ab-adorned curly haired cutie who desperately wants a pair of shoes with matching laces!) So leave a review and chapter four will be on its way! ;)