"Gin! Gin!" Trinket called out as soon as she entered the slums.

A small urchin girl with sandy hair appeared from one of the alleys. "Gin's off playing cards," she said.

"Please, go get her, tell her Booker needs her help immediately."

The little girl nodded, and before she could even turn to leave, Trinket was off running once again. She made it to the front door of the house and fumbled for her key. Hurrying inside, she sat on the stairs and laid her head in her hands, trying to catch her breath and make sense of what had just happened.

Booker got arrested.

By the police. The actual police.

Although she often wondered about his ability to evade the authorities for so long, she was still shocked that they had finally come for him. How was he going to talk his way out of this one?

But as her heart rate began to slow, she remembered the note. Pulling it out of her pocket, she reexamined the words. While the handwriting was Booker's normal messy script, it did not appear to have been written in a rush. And she hadn't seen him pen it at any point during the night. So he must have had it ready before they went out to dinner.

Which meant he had planned this.

Though this gave her some relief, it also infuriated her that he sprung this on her without any warning whatsoever. Even a slight hint at what he had in store would have been appreciated.

The bell rang, and she jumped to her feet to answer the door. Gin stood there, slightly out of breath and leaning against the door frame. "Booker needs me?" she asked.

Nodding, Trinket motioned for her to come inside. "Yes, thank you for coming so quickly."

She closed the door and turned to Gin who was looking about confused. "Where is he?" she asked.

Fiddling with Booker's note, Trinket took a deep breath. "He's been arrested."

Gin's eyes went wide, and she rushed to the door.

"No, no, Gin, listen," Trinket said as she caught the urchin around the waist.

"Let me go, I have to help him!" Gin said as she struggled against her.

"Gin, he planned this."

The girl settled down a bit, but her eyes were still wild. "What do you mean? Why would he want to get arrested? What's going on?"

"He slipped this note into my pocket right before they took him," Trinket explained, holding up the paper. "It said to find you and get rid of 'it.'"

"'It'?"

"The body. He said earlier tonight that he had figured out a way to dispose of it without arousing suspicion, and apparently this was what he meant."

Leaning against the stair railing, Gin pulled at her tangled braid. "So while he has most of the police distracted, he wants us to dump the body."

"Yes, I believe so."

Gin nodded, but the unease in her expression remained. "All right, so how are we gonna do this?"

Trinket stuffed the note back in her pocket. "I'm not sure. I know she's downstairs, but the last time I saw her, her organs were all outside of her body."

Gin wrinkled her nose. "Then how are we gonna move it?"

Drumming her fingers on the door, Trinket tried to think. Maybe Booker left more instructions for them in his desk or by the body.

Making her way down the hallway, she called back to Gin, "Wait here, I'll go see if there's anything in the laboratory."

She unlocked the laboratory door and headed downstairs. As she did, she noticed that mixed with the normal smells of chemicals and machinery was the scent of something rotten. She guessed that now that the body wasn't out in the frigid cold, it was beginning to decompose. Which would make their job all the more pleasant.

The dead woman was still on the operating table, but she was no longer in a disemboweled state. The flaps of skin had been sewn up, and Trinket assumed her organs had been returned to their places. Her head had also been stitched back together. She looked like a sad, broken ragdoll, but it was much easier to lay eyes on her than it had been previously.

Trinket gazed at the woman for a moment, trying to decide the best course of action. She attempted to pull her up by one of her arms but found that the limb was too stiff to manipulate and that the skin was beginning to flake off. She let go and wiped her hands off on her coat to rid herself of the awful feeling of the rotting skin. She retrieved a rag and positioned herself by the woman's head. Using the rag as a barrier between herself and the dead woman's skin, she tried to lift her enough to get a grip on her, but she wasn't expecting her to be so incredibly heavy. Letting her drop back down onto the table, she planted her hands on her hips and stared at the corpse. She couldn't do this alone.

"Gin!"

There was a moment of silence before Gin replied from upstairs. "Yes?"

"I need your help down here."

Another pause. "Booker's never let me down there."

"Well, Booker is not here."

"I don't want to upset him."

"Listen, Gin, I can't do this on my own. I need your help. Booker will understand. After all, he's the one who told me to have you assist me. Please."

There was a pause, and then light steps proceeded down the laboratory stairs. As Gin rounded the corner, her mouth fell open upon seeing the laboratory. Trinket watched as her eyes scanned the shelves filled with jars containing organs and oddities, the half-made mechanical limbs scattered across the workbenches, and then the dead body on the operating table.

"So this is where you and Booker get all cozy."

Trinket laughed. "It's anything but cozy, trust me." Although, she couldn't lie that the laboratory had become a familiar place, particularly when she was there with Booker. "Come on, I need your help hauling her up the stairs."

Gin took hold of one side of the woman while Trinket took the other, and together they lifted her up. The weight was still ridiculous, and they only managed to move her a few inches before losing their grip. When she fell from their hands, she was only half on the table and ended up toppling to the ground.

Gin rubbed her hands on her trousers. "She's slippery. And I think her skin is falling off."

"Yes, I believe she's decomposing." Trinket sighed and looked about the room. "Maybe if we had some rope we could drag her up the stairs."

"You sure that won't make pieces of her come flying off?"

Trinket rifled through the drawers and tables and eventually found a length of rope. Worried that Gin was right about the woman's body parts falling off, she opted to tie the rope around the corpse's waist rather than her arms or neck. The idea of the woman's head coming off made Trinket sick to her stomach. She managed to drag the body over towards the stairs and then lifted her so that she was on the first step.

"All right," she said as she sat on one of the steps. "If you can come up here with me and help pull, I think we can get her out of here."

"And after that?"

"We'll figure that out later."

Gin climbed over the body and stood by Trinket. They both got a firm hold on the rope and then pulled in unison. It was still heavy, but at least now they weren't losing their grip. Though it was a slow process, they were eventually able to lug the woman up the first few steps.

After a while, they got into a bit of a rhythm. It wasn't until they reached the doorway that they encountered a problem. The woman's shoulder got snagged on the final step, and no matter how hard they tugged, they couldn't get her over it. Gin finally left Trinket holding the rope and got down on her hands and knees to dislodge the limb. Now loosened from the step, the woman became much easier to pull, and Trinket tumbled into the wall opposite the door, nearly losing hold of the rope. Gin helped her grab it to keep the body from falling back down the stairs.

"So now what?" Gin panted as she sat beside Trinket.

"Let's get her away from the stairs."

After they caught their breath, they hauled the body into the foyer and pulled her upright, leaning her against the wall.

"Even if the police are preoccupied, someone is going to notice us carrying a naked corpse through the city," Trinket said as she examined the body.

"Should we do like Booker did when he brought it here?"

"Good idea."

Trinket tugged off her coat and draped it around the shoulders of the emaciated woman. She then took Gin's bowler—after some protestation on the urchin's part—and placed it on the corpse's head. It wasn't perfect, but in the dark, she might pass for an inebriated individual being carried home by her friends.

"All right, let's get her out of here," Trinket said.

"Where are we gonna drop her?" Gin grunted as she grabbed hold of one side of the woman.

"One of the alleys in the center?" Trinket suggested. "Where there aren't too many people milling about?"

"It's past midnight and freezing cold. I don't think there's gonna be a lot of people out tonight."

Once they got out the door, they did not stop except for when Trinket locked the door. It was a clumsy walk through the streets. The both of them were jumpy and on edge, sinking into the shadows whenever they heard a noise or feared they saw someone moving nearby. In Trinket's mind, the Mice were waiting around every corner, ready to grab them and make them talk.

Look out!

Over there!

No, no, no, no, no . . .

"Not helping," Trinket mumbled to the voices.

"What?" Gin asked.

"Ah, let's see if there's someplace to put her over here."

They settled on leaving her in an alleyway by some abandoned buildings across from the butcher. It was very near where Scales had accosted her, but Trinket put that incident out of mind. She took her coat off of the woman and Gin snatched up her hat. She grimaced at it as she shook it out and hit it against her knee a few times before placing it back on her head. Trinket folded her coat over her arm. She'd have to wash it before donning it again.

"I should go to the station and wait for Booker," Gin said. "Maybe I can cause a distraction and bust him out."

"I think he has things under control."

"But I should be there just in case."

Trinket laid a hand on Gin's tensed shoulder. "Gin, we don't want to cause any problems. You know Booker. He probably has it all planned out perfectly. He always does."

"Not always. Sometimes he flies by the seat of his pants like a fool."

The girl had a point. "Let's wait for him back at the house. I'm sure he'll be home soon."

Though she looked like she wanted to argue, Gin slumped her shoulders and nodded. They made their way back home, the wind sending such a chill through Trinket's body that she almost pulled on her coat. However, the thought of flakes of rotting skin being stuck to the fabric made her reconsider. Once inside the house, they settled into the parlour to relax, although it didn't take long for Gin's nerves to rile her up again.

"What if they actually do have evidence against him?" she asked as she paced the room. "What if his plans got messed up and they threw him into a cell?"

"Do they have a cell at the station?" Trinket asked. She didn't recall seeing one the few times she had been there.

"I should really be there, just in case he needs me."

She moved towards the door, but Trinket caught her and pulled her back. "Gin, you know Booker even better than I do. When has he not been able to talk his way out of a situation?"

Gin let out a long breath. "If he's in trouble, if something happens—"

"He's going to be fine. Here, sit down and I'll go make us some tea and crumpets."

She led Gin to the settee, and the girl sat down reluctantly. "What is it with you and Booker and tea and crumpets? It's all you ever eat and drink."

Trinket shrugged. "Crumpets have always been a favorite of mine. And I've used tea to calm my nerves since—" She hesitated to admit it was since her hallucinations had started. "Since I can remember. Just wait here, all right?"

She slipped into the kitchen, hoping Gin wouldn't try to escape while she was gone. Quickly setting the kettle on the stove, she pulled some crumpets from the dry larder. Once everything was ready, she placed it all on a tray and made her way back to the parlour only to find Gin staring out the window. She set the tray on the table, and Gin's attention turned to her. Though she was clearly still worried about Booker, the smell of crumpets and jam was too much for even her to resist.

"These are way better than that stew you burned a while back," she said as she stuffed a crumpet into her mouth.

Trinket took a seat on the settee and sipped at the green tea she had made for herself. "Well, that's probably because I didn't make these. I bought them at the bakery. All I did was heat them up."

"You didn't burn them, though, so good job."

"Thank you, I suppose?" She watched as Gin sat beside her and picked at another crumpet.

 "Does Booker often provide meals for you and your friends?"

"They're not my friends," Gin snapped. "They're associates. And he does sometimes. He plays favorites, though."

"I'm guessing you're a favorite?"

Though she tried, Gin couldn't hide her grin. "I was one of his first contacts here, aside from Adelaide. But she's dead, so I won there."

"You've known him since he moved here?"

She took a bite of her crumpet. "Since before. He used to come here and work on people who were missing hands and whatnot. Came all the way from Ravenwallow to do it. I reckon folks down his way didn't look too kindly on his methods."

"He's lucky to have met you."

"Yes, he is." She lowered the crumpet and stared across the room. "Right from the get-go, he started making enemies. The Mice asked about him soon as they caught wind of what he was doing. If I hadn't watched out for him, he'd probably be dead."

Her expression grew anxious once more, and Trinket grasped at straws to keep her distracted. "Do you think you could teach me to play cards?"

Gin faced her, her eyebrows knit together. "Cards? Why?"

"Seems like it could be useful here in Tinkerfall. And besides, it looks like fun. As long as you're not facing off with a vicious thug."

Letting out a short laugh, Gin pulled a deck of discolored cards from her pocket. "Trust me, I'm just as scary as a Mouse. So, how much money you got?"

~

Several hours went by as Gin tried to teach Trinket the nuances of Knocks, but she mostly learned that she was not cut out for cards. However, it did serve as a good distraction. Eventually, Gin grew tired, and they abandoned the lesson.

"You really think he's all right?" Gin asked as she curled up on the settee, her eyelids drooping.

Trinket glanced at the clock. Two o'clock. He'd been gone for a while. "Yes, I'm sure of it. You know how he is."

Gin nodded as she shifted a bit, leaning her head on the arm of the settee. "He's all the family I got, you know. And I mean, I know he's not even my family, but he's the closest thing."

Swallowing down her own anxiety, Trinket brushed a strand of loose hair out of Gin's face. "At this point, he's all I have, too."

"What will we do without him?"

"I don't think we'll have to worry about that. But if it came down to it, I'm sure we could manage. At the very least, you could. You're the toughest person I know."

Gin glanced over at her, a smile hiding in the corner of her mouth. "You're pretty tough, too. You've lasted longer than I thought you would."

Trinket chuckled softly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

~

They must have fallen asleep at some point during the night, as Trinket was woken by a hand on her arm. Her eyes shot open, and she found Booker kneeling in front of her. She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a finger to his lips, nodding at Gin who had fallen asleep on Trinket's shoulder. He gently moved the urchin so that her head was resting against the arm of the settee and then motioned for Trinket to follow him.

Once they were in the kitchen, Trinket went off on him. "Where have you been? What happened? Do you know how worried we were?"

"Where do you think I was?" Booker said as he lit the stove to heat the kettle. "I was at the police station."

"But I thought it was all staged. What took so long?"

He went to the dresser to fetch some tea. "It was staged to a degree. I had someone send in an anonymous tip that they had seen me wandering about the alleys at night with blood on my hands and a bone saw in my possession. Apparently that was all they needed to haul me in. However, once they had me, they were less than willing to give me up."

"What if they had decided the anonymous tip was enough to convict you? What then?"

Booker returned to the table with a teacup and a jar of his favorite black tea. "Then I would have come up with another idea. I wasn't worried."

Frustrated with his lack of concern, she pushed him out of the way to prepare the tea, desperate to occupy herself with some task. "Well, we were."

"Gin knows me well enough not to worry."

A crude laugh escaped her lips. "Really? Try telling that to the little girl who was about to storm the station to rescue you."

"What? Gin isn't that impetuous."

"She is when you're in danger. She loves you, Booker. Can't you see that?"

"She's a child."

"A child who sees you as her only family."

The kettle started whistling, and she went to fetch it. Booker watched as she poured the water onto the tea leaves, likely burning it as he always did. But she was too flustered to care. She held the cup and saucer out to him, daring to finally meet his eyes. He held her gaze for a moment and then took the tea, setting it back down on the table.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked softly.

"No, not mad, just . . ." She swallowed, trying to understand her own feelings. "Seeing you arrested like that was terrifying. I thought it was real. Even after reading your note, I was still afraid for your safety."

"I'm sorry. I just thought it would be better for you to know nothing in case they decided to drag you in as well. That way I could be sure you'd get away without being harmed."

"Jewkes likes me more than you anyhow, so I don't think it would have been an issue."

Booker grinned, but his expression was still soft. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Or Gin. I am sorry."

She nodded, feeling foolish for being so vexed when it really wasn't her place. After all, wasn't she the one keeping secrets here? What right did she have to be upset with him for sometimes keeping her in the dark?

You have no right.

She looked up and found him smiling at her again. Clearing her throat, she turned back to the table and motioned to his tea. "That's going to get cold if you don't drink it."

He snapped out of his daze and picked up the cup. "Right, right, thank you." He took a sip and glanced over the rim at her. "And thank you for worrying."

"You should really be thanking Gin. She's the one who was ready to set things on fire to get to you."

Laughing, Booker leaned against the table. "That sounds like her. So tell me how you two managed with the corpse. I'm sure it was far more interesting than my time spent at the station."