Day Three - Afternoon

     Alicia’s surprised to see the boy. From the moment he’s at the door, her expression wavers between shock and distress. He hasn't done anything, so why is she upset?

     “Jeezus, kid. I thought you had more sense in you than to come in this weather… Well don't just stand there! Get in, get in!” She ushers him inside to the crackling hearth.

     The boy gratefully plops beside the coals. He sets his shoes out to (hopefully) dry. Even if they're still wet by opening, by his eviction, they'll be warm for a few sweet seconds. He points his pruney toes hearthwards and relishes the feeling coming back into his frigid feet. Hands hover above feet, also enjoying the heat, though it makes the sores on his fingers ache in new ways. He’s comfortable until Alicia places a gentle hand on his shoulder. He recoils at the unexpected touch. Her hurt look convinces him that she didn't mean anything by it. Satisfied, he goes back to staring at the hearth. He hears Alicia sigh beside him. He hears her go to the kitchen. He hears her ask Gerry to be generous with the servings.

     The boy smirks. It's not everyday he gets to be doted on. He savours the feeling while it lasts. As happy as he is to laze about the hearth, he has a job to do. He rubs his hands in front of the fireplace one more time and gets up. It's time to earn that meal.

     Alicia begs to differ. “Oh, no, no, no. You are staying put there, by the fire, until you are dry. I am not having you drip all over the floors, working yourself 'til you catch your death because you've been out in the wet and damp doing… doing god knows what.”

     Her distress hasn't waned. It takes a moment and the worry etched in her brows for the boy to put two and two together. What he sees there aren't her emotions per se; they're reflections of what she sees in him. How sentimental. If she thinks this is bad, she should’ve seen what he looked like at the workhouse. She's nice, but too damn nice. She's asking to be deceived and the boy’s sorely inclined to try… No, better not. Sentimental she may be, but she's no moron. She’ll catch on. Moreover, he wants to stay honest with her. He likes her too much to play tricks. But if that's what it takes to get away from Myr…

     He returns to watching the fireplace. He doesn't know what he'll do because he doesn't know what it'll take to do it. If it means hurting Alicia… He glances at her. She's polishing off the tables, doing his job for him. She shoots him the odd worried look when she thinks he's not looking.

     He turns his attention back to the crackling hearth and wrings out his shirt and hair to stop himself from thinking too much about her. Alicia's right about him catching his death; staying soaked like this is like asking to get sick. He pauses, the fabric of his shirt caught in mid-twist. He's still thinking about the person he explicitly decided not to think about anymore. Fat load of good that's doing. It's like trying not to think of a song that's stuck in your head. Doesn't matter if you do or don't, it's lodged between your ears and there it'll stay as long as it pleases.

     Speaking of things stuck in people's heads, here comes the lady herself. Seems like she's done with the tables. She must be coming over for one of her poorly disguised interrogations. The boy watches her so he won't get spooked again, then he goes back to watching the coals burn. He waits for Alicia to work up enough nerve to begin her inquiry.

     “Boy.” She wrinkles her nose at the the word, grimacing at how wrong it sounds. “Kid.” This address fits better. She's called him that already, may as well stick with it. “Why are you really here, kid?”

     The boy knows exactly what to say. He turns to her, full eye contact. No more spying glances. “I came because I promised I'd be here.” He doesn't mention dinner, his motivation for keeping the promise.

     His words have the intended effect. Alicia melts. Melts too much, perhaps. She looks like she's about to cry. “Jeezus kid, jeezus…” She doesn't make the mistake of touching him again, however much she wants to pull him into a bear hug.

     The boy regrets his words. He wanted to schmooze with the nice lady who gives him soup on the sly, not bring her to tears. He sits there dumbly with one hand hovering aimlessly in the air, not sure what to do with it. He's not sure what to do at all. He oughta do something, say something. “S’alright. I dun mind. I've been out in worse and turned out fine.”

     His optimism is intended to be reassuring. What he says has the effect opposite to his intentions. Alicia’s heart breaks. She excuses herself abruptly and rushes to the kitchen, to Gerry. It would've been better if the boy had said and done nothing, hand still hesitating halfway to nowhere.

     He watches her leave. Sentimental is right. He'd heard that women were flighty, emotional creatures, but he never believed a word of it until now. The women he knew personally were shrewd and calculating. The few girls he knew were that and worse. Alicia is an entirely different species. It's her that people speak of when they mention the fairer sex. All the more reason to not make her cry.

     He's bitter and guilty until he catches the scent of roast rabbit and remembers the extra serving Alicia’s pity has earned him. Thinking about it that way, the situation is reminiscent of when he made a living as a beggar. The pity of passersby earned him change, which in turn bought him a meal. Alicia's pity earns him a warm meal every day. It's the same spiel, except the hearts of passersby were too calloused to shed tears.

     He uses the logic to justify his actions. He feels bad for making Alicia cry, but it's her own fault for being too nice. If this keeps up, she'll give him anything he asks. He'll have a new home in no time. He'd better to ask now while the going's good, while Alicia's emotions are running too high for good sense to stop his plans.

     Gerry's the first to notice him. Gerry's a gangly young man, all knees and elbows. A genuine beanpole. He gives the boy a quick glance and returns to peeling potatoes. Alicia notes Gerry's reaction and turns to find the boy behind her. She stoops to come to eye level with him. Way to rub it in, you condescending... He swallows back his ire and puts on the charm in preparation for this next performance.

     Alicia has the first line. “Hullo kid. How are you feeling?”

     The boy beams at her. “Much better now Miss Alicia. Thank you so much for your… your…” Shit. He knows the word (more or less), but can't recall how to say it. “Your has-pit-til-ity.” It doesn't sound right, but it's close enough.

     Alicia rolls the mangled syllables in her mouth. “Has… You mean hospitality?”

     “That's what I said.” He's lying. He hears the difference perfectly, he's just too proud to admit his mistake.

     Mispronounced or not, Alicia smiles at his courtesy. “You are very welcome.”

     So far so good. “Say, you remember when we were talking yesterday?”

     “Of course I do. It was only yesterday.”

     Excellent. “You still got that roof to offer?” He pouts with full puppy eyes. The more pitiful he looks, the better he plays the lady’s heartstrings.

     Alicia worries her lip and glances away. Gerry gives her a sidelong glance. What's his problem?

     Alicia eventually answers. “Err, well… I don't got an extra bed per se… Plus, pa wouldn't be pleased if I took to taking in strays.” She looks back to the boy. He's looking as endearing as humanly possible. She sighs. “I’ll ask around, but I can't promise anything. If someone's got room for one more, you'll be the first to know after me.”

     The boy droops, nods sadly, and slinks back to his place by the fire. He bites his cheeks hard to stop a silly grin from tattooing itself on his face. That went much better than expected. Not only has the telegram business gone swimmingly, he's even got plans underway for permanent accommodations. He can't wait to see what Alicia will find for him. He knows his little act will spur her on her quest. Think of it as his brand of encouragement.

     And so the boy enjoys his time roasting by the fire in spite of his somber appearance. He enjoys Alicia's mothering as she tries to get herself back into his good books, as if she wasn't there already. But he won't tell her any of that while he's having a good time. And he's not hurting her. Look at her, she's having fun pulling out his splinters.

     “I honestly haven't a clue why you've got more splinters today than you did the day before.”

     The boy makes a mental note to find a splinter free way of moving that window. Too many splinters are not only painful, they're suspicious. For the time being, he shrugs off her inquiry before she gets started on his fingers or the ring of marks barely visible under his shirt collar.

     Next is dinner. Alicia insists on keeping him company. The boy grins and bears it. From the looks of things, he's not the only one who's dissatisfied. Gerry watches the two of them intently from the kitchen doorway. He calls Alicia to help him with something. The boy is grateful for the diversion. He's dealt with enough chatterboxes today. The silence does him good. He eats his potatoes and rabbit in peace.

     Whatever distraction Gerry's cooked up in the kitchen, it occupies Alicia well after the boy's polished his plate. No matter. The most pressing concern on his mind is whether he should leave his dirty dishes for Alicia to pick up later or if he should take them in himself.

     He checks the windows to gauge the time using the little light that seeps through the muddy glass. It's late. He should leave. May as well hand in his plate and say goodbye before he goes. He ends up walking in on Alicia and Gerry in the middle of a heated, whispered argument. He catches the words “kid” and “conman” before they notice him and go quiet. The boy studies both of them. They've been talking about him behind his back. They better be saying nice things.

     He plays the fool, pretends he's too naive and innocent to know he's been gossiped about. (Pretends he’s not bitter.) “I'm sorry for botherin’ yous, but I was wond’rin’ what to do with my plate once I'm done with it.” He looks like the 'good boy', so timid and shy.

     Neither Alicia nor Gerry says a word. Gerry raises a brow at Alicia and shrugs. Alicia huffs at Gerry... Interesting.

     Alicia ends the stand off. She turns to the boy. “Give your plate here, I'll take care of it for you.” Her smile's strained.

     Gerry rolls his eyes. He doesn't comment.

     Alicia takes the plate from his hands. The boy remains by the doorway and waits to see how long they'll tolerate him being there. He waits longer than anticipated.

     Again, it's Alicia who breaks the silence. “Is there anything else?”

     The boy sizes her up. Could he get away with asking for a piece of bread to save for breakfast tomorrow? Would he be asking too much? Gerry's glaring at him. The beanpole's leery. Now's not a good time to test the waters. “No. Jus’ wanting to say g’d night. See you tomorrow!” He can't have Alicia forget about that promise, now can he?

     Alicia stiffens. She waves him goodbye and wishes him good night. Ever watchful Gerry nods to him and keeps an eye on him as he picks up his shoes from the fireside and leaves through the front door.

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