The sun was sinking towards the early stages of evening, not yet resting on the horizon but making the descent. The streets of Brooklyn were still busy, they were still hostile, and they still held a weary Kat who had yet to sell her last paper. Her day had not been especially awful; neither had it been exactly red letter. She had been pleased to see that she could still sell the 45 papers she had so recently sold in the Bronx. Or the 44 rather. After her talk with Spot that morning, she'd bought her papers amid threatening glances and high-tailed it to the only corner she knew. Her customers had all seemed surprised to find a girl selling newspapers under the cabbie hat, but when they'd gotten over themselves had been pleasant enough. Kat had nearly crossed paths with a few other newsies, but had succeeded in staying out of their ways.

A stiff-looking business man walked briskly up to her and held out a penny. Kat handed him his paper silently and took the pay, glancing into his eyes as he turned and hurried off. Now she could go back home to Spot. She snickered at the idea of living with Spot Conlon. The whole situation was amusing to her- it had to be or she was likely to go insane.

Hands stuffed deep into her change-filled pockets, she turned the direction the business man hadn't gone and continued at an equally hastened pace. Although she was paying close attention, Kat didn't notice the other newsie until he was right beside her.

"You're da new goil." He said matter-of-factly. He didn't look at her when he spoke but straight ahead as she did. He had sharp features and black eyes that shifted from side to side with uncertainty. His physique was typical for a Brooklynite- broad and muscular- the only difference being that he couldn't have been more than 5'6".

"Yes, I am." Her confirmation was tentative. He stopped abruptly, grabbing her arm so that she would stop too. Kat coiled instinctively away from him and his grip loosened momentarily as though to reassure her of an escape. Rather than attacking as her mind insisted he would, he extended his hand.

"William."

"Oh," she mumbled in embarrassment. "I'm Kat. But you already knew that." She reached out intending to shake his hand, but when their palms met, William raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. He then proceeded to blush madly and resume his vigorous walk, plunging fists deep into his pockets. Kat was left standing as she had been, blinking after him in surprise.

"Are you coming?" he walked backwards to call to her. She jogged to catch up.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"The docks. It's hot an I wanna swim. You don' hafta follow 'less you wanna."

"Will Spot be there?" Kat didn't want to be anywhere he wasn't unless she had to be. William shrugged and led her around a corner, the docks coming into view. The bay whispered invitingly with waves that lifted diamonds on their crests. Most of the newsies were there, Kat supposed, in the water and sprawled on the docks themselves. Piles of clothes littered the ground around various crates. Spot sat atop one of these, leaning against another like a lounge chair and looking petulant. Even from behind Kat recognized the twins from earlier that day, standing before him as servants, he a king on his throne.

"You're gonna' swim?" William asked. She turned to look at him as he kicked his pants off to the side. Quickly averting her eyes from his long- john-clad body, she rushed her eyes up to his, blushing.

"I don't think I will, thanks." The events from the night before drifted back to her, and the fact that she was still wearing Spot's shirt. No way that was coming off.

"It's hot. No one will mind." he persisted.

"I'd really rather not. But thank you for the invitation. I need to talk to Spot anyway."

"Maybe later," William warned. Kat followed his eyes to where Spot sat. "He don' look too approachable right now." She shrugged and slipped past him. Mumbles rippled around her like the water; she felt eyes following her. Cozen was the only one she recognized, and he didn't seem too happy to be recognizing her. She hurried up to Spot. Vir was saying something, and Spot's brow furrowed. They stopped talking when she stumbled up.

"Do ya' mind?" Bane spat as Vir turned hate-filled eyes on her. Kat bit her lip and began inching back the way she'd come, unsure of how to proceed. Spot's eyes on hers made her stop. He nodded her over and offered a hand to help her up onto the crates. Surprised at the gesture, she accepted and clambered up next to him in a way she wished could have been graceful. She was embarrassed by how much weight he'd been left to support although his face hadn't changed at all.

"Spot." Bane objected but was silenced by the eyes on him now. Spot signaled them away. Their parting glances were less than friendly. Kat sunk unintentionally into his side. Her jaw clenched. Spot was watching her; he studied her impassively before nudging her in the side with his fingertips to remind her that she was cowering. Kat immediately straightened.

"Ya did a'ight taday, Babe." His mood was much altered from what it had been that morning in the fishing shack. "Ya sell pretty well an' I assume ya didn' run inta' any trouble or I woulda' had ta come get ya out."

"How do you know?" she asked, momentarily forgetting herself. His expression was incredulous.

"I'm Spot Conlon."

"Right," Kat muttered. "Silly me."

He turned away from her again to survey his territory. Kat leaned forward to rest elbows on knees and pretended not to feel awkward.

"Is everything alright, Spot?" she asked presently, remembering the twins and the way he'd looked.

"It's fine. None a' yer business."

"Oh, of course not, I just wondered. You looked upset before."

The corner of his mouth pulled up for the first time since that morning.

"Yer forgettin dat I don' get upset."

She sighed deeply and decided that Spot was clearly not in a helpful mood. They sat in silence for some time as she mulled over her day and watched the boys in front of them. It was a strange thing to see the Brooklyn newsies "play". Most of their frolicking ended in tussles, though none so extreme as to require Spot's interference. The sun was just beginning to set when the majority of them dressed and headed back to the warehouse. Kat was waiting for Spot to get up so that she could walk back with him. It would feel strange and disrespectfully self-governing to leave alone. Spot's expression was emotionless when she glanced back at him from the corner of her eye. He didn't appear to have budged in the hour or so that they'd been sitting there, although Kat had changed positions at least eight times. He looked as though he'd been carved from stone and dropped beside her. It was silly, but the more she thought this, the more she convinced herself that the real Spot had left hours ago and this was some sculpture left to kid her into thinking he wanted to sit with her. Surely the real Spot would have something more important to do. Surely the real Spot would blink.

Kat cleared her throat and leaned towards him.

"Spot?" she spluttered and proceeded to feel ridiculous when he turned his head to look at her.

He waited an awkwardly long amount of time before grumbling a reply.

"What?" he asked. His irritated mood seemed to persist and she felt uncomfortable and foolish.

"Nothing." She answered quickly, and that was the end of their conversation. Not until they were back in their room did he say anything, and then it was a mumbled response to her 'goodnight' as he left her to fall asleep alone. Where he went at night she never knew.