It only took one day of bed rest for Booker to become absolutely restless. Since he had regained some of his strength, Trinket relented and let him sit in the parlour, but she insisted that he not return to the laboratory for at least another day. Though he protested at first, he eventually agreed.

Seeing him in his normal attire made it seem as if he were back to himself. He settled onto the settee, and Trinket fetched him several books from the library, although she wished he would wait before he dove back into his work. This time he was reading up on aquatic life, and Daphne gave a slight laugh when she noticed him studying a diagram of gills.

"What?" he said. "I'm merely interested in the complexities of the organ. Do you realize how much concentration must have gone into attaching them so that they could still function? It's brilliant, really."

The bell at the front door rang. "Yes, yes, you and your friend are unappreciated geniuses," Trinket said as she collected his teacup and saucer and went to answer the door. "Though I can't say there's much use for gills on a human."

"If done right, they could be very useful," Booker called back.

Gin was at the door, and though she wore her typical smug grin, Trinket detected a hint of worry behind her amber eyes. "Figured you lot were busy with that fish woman," she said. "But it'd been a while since I heard from you, so I thought I'd check up to make sure she wasn't some loon who tried to kill you or something."

"No, we're quite alive," Trinket said, stepping aside to allow her to come inside. "However, things have been a tad chaotic."

"When are things not chaotic around here?" Gin stopped in the doorway of the parlour when she saw Booker sitting on the settee. Her shoulders relaxed, and her smile grew more affectionate. "Lounging about in the middle of the day? Never thought I'd see you wasting time above ground."

"Ah, Gin," Booker said as he closed his book and tossed it onto the table. "I've been meaning to thank you again. You have no idea how appreciative I am. I don't know what I would do without you."

She waved away his thanks, but her face was glowing. "All in a day's work. So what happened to her? She croak on you?"

"Actually—"

Before he could finish his thought, Daphne came in through the dining room with a tray of freshly made scones. Gin's eyes widened as she took in the portable aquariums on either side of her neck. Her eyes darted from the woman to Booker several times before resting on him and the teasing smile he was sporting.

"So clearly I missed something exciting," she said.

Laughing, Booker patted the spot beside him. "Sit a spell and I'll catch you up."

He explained everything that had happened after she left Daphne with them—everything but his drug withdrawal and the weakened state he was still in. Even without this knowledge, though, it was obvious Gin could tell something was amiss. She kept eyeing Booker suspiciously when he would look away, as if trying to pick up on what was out of place about him.

"I must say, I am growing rather fond of her cooking," Booker said as he bit into a scone.

Gin turned to Trinket who was sitting in the armchair. "This mean you're out of a job?"

"As you well know, I never excelled in culinary arts," Trinket said.

"Trinket's the one who hired her," Booker said. "Besides, this means she has more time at her disposal to help me track down corpses and attend card games."

"Mind you, I'm still resolved to act as a housemaid," Trinket said. "Daphne is an excellent cook, and she's certainly lent a hand in the house cleaning, but I don't think it's fair to expect her to do all the work around here. While my cooking skills leave much to be desired, I feel my cleaning is passable."

"Yes, well, I can say that my home has never been quite so tidy."

"So you've been cooped up here all week working on the fish woman?" Gin asked.

Booker met Trinket's eyes, and it only took a glance to know that he did not intend on telling Gin about his bout of illness. "Yes, it required a good amount of time," he said with an easy smile. "Gills are delicate things. Had to be very careful."

Even with his carefree manner, Gin didn't look fully convinced. Nevertheless, she took a bite of a scone and changed the subject. "Did you hear about the latest body?" she asked.

Booker's face lit up with excitement. "Another one?"

She nodded. "Mhm, but this one was different from the others."

"How so?"

"This one wasn't a woman. It was a man."

"Really?"

"Yep, showed up by the tea shop. Had a hard time getting a good look, but I did catch a few things."

"Do tell."

"Well, he looked pretty normal except for the wings sticking out of his back."

"Wings? Like, bird wings or bat wings?"

"Bat."

Booker furrowed his brow. "How could that even be possible?"

"And there were two more things that stuck out: his dirty nails and shiny white teeth."

Silence fell over the room. The blood drained from Trinket's face. She turned to Booker. His eyes were wide as he gripped the arm of the settee. Unable to contain himself, he leapt to his feet.

"Gin, take me to him no—"

He stumbled, and Trinket managed to jump up and catch him before he collapsed. Steadying him while trying to keep herself upright, she could feel tremors running through his body.

"Booker, it's too soon to go chasing after the dead," she said as she tried to ease him onto the settee.

Gin rose to her feet, eyes blazing. "I knew it. You're hiding something from me. What's wrong with him? Why is he lounging in the parlour? And why can't he stand on his own?"

"I can stand on my own," Booker said as he shook Trinket off.

"Really? Cuz you looked like you were about to fall flat on your face a second ago."

"Never mind that, what about this bat-man?"

Scowling, Gin rolled her eyes. "There is no bat-man. I made it up to get the truth out of you. So come on, out with it. What happened to you?"

Booker held her fierce gaze for a beat before sighing and plopping himself back into his seat. Trinket exchanged a look with Daphne who was standing off to the side. Gin refused to back down. She stared daggers at Booker until he turned to Trinket for help. Not knowing what to do, she merely shrugged.

Groaning, he ran a hand through his hair. "Fine, fine," he said. "I haven't been working on Daphne this past week. I've been laid up in bed."

Though Gin's eyes were still filled with fire, the flames flickered momentarily. "Laid up? In bed? Why? What happened?"

Booker hesitated, again looking to Trinket, though she didn't know what he expected her to do. "I was sick," he said.

Gin snorted in disbelief. "You're never sick."

"Well, I got sick. It happens. Even doctors are not immune to ailments. Anyhow, I was very ill and laid up and that's why I'm not exactly in top form."

It took a moment for it to all sink in, but Gin eventually calmed down and sat back on the settee by Booker. "What kind of sick was it?"

"Nothing contagious, I assure you. In fact, it was mostly my fault. But I'm better now." He smiled sweetly at the urchin. "I swear."

She nodded slowly, twisting her fingers together. "Good. Don't know why you thought you needed to hide it from me, though."

"I didn't want you to worry."

Her head snapped up. "I'm not a child, Booker. I live on the street and see people drop like flies all the time. Don't try to shelter me when I've never known what real shelter is."

Booker drew back from her ire, but his expression softened. "You're absolutely right. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

She settled down. "Good. Make sure it doesn't."

Rising to her feet, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach out to him. Instead, she gave a curt nod and headed to the door. Trinket followed after her.

"You could stay if you're worried about him," she said softly, making sure Booker was out of earshot.

Gin scoffed. "I'm not worried. Just mad that he thinks he needs to treat me like a child."

The way the girl's eyes darted to the parlour said otherwise. "Very well," Trinket said, knowing better than to argue with the likes of her. "But feel free to check on him whenever you'd like. I'm sure he'd enjoy the company."

Clearing her throat and looking away, Gin mumbled, "Maybe if I got time. I'm a busy person."

She opened the door to leave, and Trinket leaned against the doorpost. "I'm certain he'll be back to himself in a few days. He's strong," she said.

A small smile tugged at Gin's lips, and she gave a nod. "Thank you, Trinket," she said before taking to the street.