"What should be our excuse for being here?" Jack asked Racetrack and David solemnly as they stepped into Joseph Pulitzer's home. "Or shall we step in without apology?" He tugged slightly at the mask that lied over his eyes.

"Let them measure us by what they will." Racetrack gave a shrug, "I just want a dance, or two. Then we can leave."

David nodded, following Racetrack inside and pulling Jack in with them. "No one will even notice who we are. It's a masked party, remember?"

"No, I forgot about the mask covering my face and nearly stabbing me in the eye." Jack joked, sighing. "Besides, I am too sad to dance."

"Nay, gentle Jack, we must have you dance!" David gave pleading eyes and Racetrack pouted.

"Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes with nimble soles." Jack crossed his arms, dreaming of Katherine. "I have a soul of lead so stakes me to the ground I cannot move."

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "You just dance. You treat love as a burden, it's such a tender thing."

Jack scoffed, "is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn," Jack explained. "I don't know if I can be here tonight, we must speak of our strike in the square early tomorrow."

David and Racetrack gave each other a look, pulling Jack further into the sea of people that lied in the Pulitzer home. "We worry of strike tomorrow. Today, we are burning daylight!" Racetrack called, overdramatic.

"I dreamt a dream tonight, yanno?" Jack desperately attempted to change the subject.

Racetrack looked up at Jack, biting his lip. "So did I."

"Well, what was yours?"

"That you're full of shit. The night is young, Jack. I won't allow you to mope around. Give me one night." Racetrack pleaded.

"Friends." The group of boys shenanigans were suddenly interrupted by Joseph Pulitzer. They hurriedly fixed their masks while he spoke. "Do not be shy tonight. I expect you all to dance. Gentlemen, there are plenty of woman waiting for your hand, and ladies, men. Have a wonderful time, friends. Remember, masks on." He winked, walking towards a group of men.

Jack couldn't hear whatever Pulitzer had spoken. His eyes were locked on a certain boy on the arm of his past love, Katherine. "Which gentlemen is that which doth enrich the hand of yonder lady?"

"I know not." Racetrack tilted his head.

"Oh, he doth teach torches to burn bright." He sighed dreamily at the boy in front of him, seemingly shy. "Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear."

"Were you not just in love with the lady who doth hold his arm?" David questioned, shaking his head.

Jack waved him off, taking a step closer. The boy and Katherine looked deep in conversation. "Did my heart know love til now?"

"You're kidding." Racetrack crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

Jack gave a slight reply, speaking of how he must touch the boys hand. In a corner beside them stood the Delancey brothers, reporting their words to Joseph Pulitzer.

"I can tell by his voice, that is one of your newsboys." Morris sounded, a furrow to his brow. "I'll get my sword, to strike him dead I hold it not a sin."

Joseph looked proudly down at Morris, a hand on his shoulder. "How now, child? Wherefore storm you so?"

"Sir, this is a newsboy, our foe." Oscar spat out. "A villain that is hither come is spite to scorn at our solemnity this night."

"Young Kelly is it?" Joseph straightened up, a seriousness flashing in his gaze.

"Tis he, that villain Jack." Morris explained.

"Let him be." Joseph spoke suddenly. "He carries himself like a dignified gentleman, even with his reputation throughout New York City. Be patient. Take no note of him. With the strike going on, I would hate for there to be more venom that may hurt this feast."

"I won't tolerate him." Oscar gave a pout and pursed his lips. "This combination of hatred and patience makes my body tremble."

"I promise, boy, he will get exactly what he deserves." Joseph swore in menace.

They watched as Jack stepped towards the boy, silently asking Katherine permission to take his hand. He grinned as he gently took his hand. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

The boy blushed darkly and interlaced his fingers with Jack's. "By holding my hand, I could call this polite devotion. Is holding one's palm not unlike another kiss?"

"Why yes, but I do pray you may kiss me the way lips do." Jack winked, kissing the boys hand.

"Without a name to know and pair lips?" The boy looked up at Jack, giggling.

"They call me Jack. Jack Kelly."

"And, I, Crutchie."

Jack made note of the crutch under the boys arm, found the nickname fitting. "May I now act upon my prayer?"

When Crutchie nodded, Jack gently kissed him, pressing their lips together quickly. It was soft and meaningful, hidden away.

"Now as my prayer is acted out, my sins are passed my from lips to yours." Jack laughed.

Crutchie tilted his head. "Then have my lips the sin that they have took?"

"Sin from thy lips?" Jack shook his head, teasing. "You encourage crime in sweetness, please give me my sin back."

They kissed again, this time deeper, more desperate. Crutchie parted from him slowly. "You kiss by th' book."

Katherine awkwardly rose her hand, an interruption. "Your father requests a word with you."

"Who is his father, fair lady?" Jack asked as Crutchie hesitantly moved and walked to where his father did stand.

"His father is the man of the house." Katherine explained, almost regretfully.

Jack gasped, stepping back slightly. "Is he a Pulitzer? O dear account! My life is my foes debt." He looked back towards a surprised Racetrack and David.

"Come on, let's go." David pulled Jack towards the exit of the house. "Right when things get most fun is it the best time to leave."

"Ay, so I fear." Jack spoke under his breath. "I'm in more trouble than ever." He left hurriedly, his head down as he passed Joseph, a knowing grin on his lips.