There he was again.

Gin stayed hidden in the shadows as she watched the young man make his way to the Clocktower, a small suitcase in his hand and a bounce to his step. His lips curled into a soft smile as he looked up at the sign fixed above the building. Boisterous laughter and thick smoke escaped from the alehouse as he pulled open the door and slipped inside.

The noise was muffled as the door slammed closed, but a small cloud of smoke remained, drifting through the chilly night air. The familiar scent of tobacco set Gin at ease as she pondered her next move.

She didn't know much about the young man. Yet. All she knew was that his name was Booker Larkin, he was a doctor, and he had money.

The money part is what caught her attention.

He'd been visiting Tinkerfall for a while now. He never spent more than a week here, and most of the time he stayed locked in his room at the Clocktower. But every once in a while, he'd venture out into the rest of the city. So far, she hadn't paid him much mind, thinking he was just another pretty-faced member of the gentry. However, when she caught wind of some of the rumors going around about him, her interest was piqued.

About his dealings with the poor.

And the surgeries he performed in his rented room.

So she'd been watching for him, waiting for his next visit. Now he was here, and she was going to do her best to figure out what he was all about.

Pulling her bowler over her eyes, she ran towards the alehouse and joined the drunk crowd within.

There was no sign of the doctor as she wove her way through the throng of people. Likely he'd gone straight to his room. She glanced at the stairs but decided not to head up there yet. Best to be patient. He'd probably make an appearance within the hour. From what she'd seen of him, he seemed to revel in the loud and chaotic scene inside the Clocktower. Just more proof that he was no ordinary gentleman.

She stationed herself by a group of night flowers who were lazily scanning the crowd. However, their expressions turned from boredom to irritation when a woman sauntered up to join them.

Adelaide.

"That Booker Larkin is back," she said, leaning against a nearby table.

"That so?" said one of the night flowers.

"And are you here to brag about how valuable you are to him?" said another, her lip curled up into a snarl.

Adelaide smiled, showing off her very large teeth. "Green is an ugly color on you, Betsie."

"Can't lie, though," said a flower with a concerning sore on her lip as she watched someone coming down the stairs. "I'd be willing to give him a free round. Or two."

The other women followed her gaze, as did Gin. Booker Larkin was making his way into the room. There was a faint smile on his lips as he surveyed the crowd before taking a seat at an empty table.

"Mmm, yes, he is a handsome devil, isn't he?" Adelaide said, licking her lips as she looked him up and down.

Someone called for her, and her face fell as she pulled her gaze away from the doctor. The other night flowers watched her go, not even bothering to hide the disdain in their eyes.

"Why would someone like him," said the flower with the sore, gesturing to Booker, "seek the company of someone like her?"

"I don't think it's her cloven inlet he's after," said another. "Something tells me it's her big mouth."

"Think his white staff prefers the quail-pipe to the fairest flower?"

"No, I think he just likes the juicy gossip her filthy little tongue spouts."

The group of women cackled, and Gin decided to move on for fear they'd attract attention. As she tried to keep Booker Larkin in sight, she nearly bumped into someone else with their eyes on him.

Scales.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she quickly slipped under a table occupied by two tired, quiet servants. She peeked out and watched as Scales took a seat in the corner, his gaze never leaving the gentleman doctor. He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them as he continued to consider him. She'd never seen him so fixated on someone before. He must really be interested in this doctor.

That did not bode well for Booker.

Though she wanted to learn more about him herself, Gin didn't like hanging around when one of the most fearsome members of the Mice was nearby. So, as quietly as she could, she crawled out from under the table and mixed into the crowd, hoping her exit went unnoticed by Scales.

She released a relieved breath when she finally managed to slip out the front door. The cool night air helped to clear her head of the noise and excitement from the alehouse that clung to her senses like stinky perfume.

If Booker Larkin was attracting the attention of the Dead Mice, there must be something important about him. Or at the very least, something that threatened them. She'd never known someone more powerful than that gang. Even the police were reluctant to get involved with them. They were the most intimidating people around, especially Scales. So for a complete stranger to catch his eye—Booker had to be something special.

And this only made her all the more interested. Not so much in him, but more in how she could take advantage of him.

Madison was hanging out in the abandoned brothel in St. Spittel when Gin found him, fiddling with some trinket he'd likely lifted. When he met her eyes, he must have seen the spark of excitement glowing inside of her. He flashed her a wide grin.

"You have a plan, dontcha?" he said.

Plopping down beside him, she drummed her fingers against her knee. "Not a plan, exactly. Just an idea."

"Your ideas are better than most people's plans. So," he set the trinket aside and stretched his arms behind his head, "what's the idea?"

"Have you heard about this Booker Larkin fellow?"

His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth twitched. "The rich doctor? Sure have. He seems like a nice guy."

"Probably won't last long in Tinkerfall, then."

"Yeah, but it's the kind of nice that seems, I dunno, careful?"

"Careful?"

"Like he knows he's being nice."

"That makes no sense, Madison."

"It's like he knows that being nice will get him places."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you don't think he's actually nice?"

Madison scrunched his face together and leaned back against the rotting wall. "Not always. When he's talking to Adelaide, I think he's pretending so he can get information from her."

"Most people have to pretend to be nice to her."

"But I think I've seen him be real nice before. With some of the urchins."

She leaned forward. "Really? What'd he do?"

"Last time he was here, he passed by a group that was going through the garbage looking for scraps. At first, I thought he was gonna walk right past them, but then he came back and offered everyone some coins. Didn't bat an eye. Smiled at them and everything. I heard from some others that it's not the first time he's done it, either. He even gives them food sometimes."

"How do you know he's not just trying to butter us up to get information like with Adelaide?"

Madison shrugged. "He could be. But what good are urchins like us for information? Most people ignore us."

Gin let out a long breath and sank back against the wall. "Or use us to do their dirty work," she mumbled, rubbing a bruise on her arm that she'd gotten from a recent job Ford had sent her on.

"You gonna target him?"

"Not sure. I mean, he's definitely rich. And he's new to here, so he'd probably be an easy chump."

Resting his elbows against his knees, Madison gave her a small smile. "Well, whatever you're planning, I'm in if you need me."

"Even if you think he's a sometimes-nice guy?"

"Of course. I'm not so easily bought with a few coins. You're my mate before anyone else."

Biting her lip to fight back a smile, she nodded and stared down at the ground. "I'm gonna do a little more investigating before I decide. But I'll let ya know."

~

Gin's investigation pretty much turned into stalking the more she learned about Booker Larkin. After observing him during his visit to Tinkerfall, she came to the conclusion that Madison was right: the doctor wasn't genuinely nice. He definitely used his charm to his advantage, to get what he wanted. And it seemed that what he wanted was information.

He chatted up all sorts of lower-class scum in the Clocktower and the city center. And he was sly about it, too, not asking obvious questions but still getting juicy gossip. His choice of associates was odd for someone of his station. Or at least, she assumed he was of a high station. He wore fancy clothes and seemed to have an endless supply of coins in his purse, which he was surprisingly generous with.

The more she saw of him, the more intrigued she became. She was no longer certain he'd be an easy target. While he was friendly and sociable, he wasn't stupid. There was a definite purpose to every word he spoke and every smile he flashed. No, he wasn't going to be someone she could cheat out of his money.

But maybe it would be wise to get on his good side.

Even after all of this observation, she wasn't quite ready to approach him. He wasn't like the trash she was used to striking deals with. Booker Larkin was respectable and well-spoken. And handsome. Adelaide was right about that. Even at a young age, Gin could appreciate the man's good looks. And to her chagrin, somehow all of that combined actually managed to intimidate her a bit. She didn't like being bested by something so silly, but it held her back from approaching the doctor all the same.

Until she saw him talking to the deformed girl.

Gin was off to meet with Ford. He was probably going to chew her out for doing something wrong. Or at least something he felt she did wrong. As she shuffled through the center, she tried to think of what she could've possibly have done now to earn his ire.

And that's when she saw Booker Larkin talking to a young woman in the shadows. Gin slowed her pace. Perhaps he was not as disinterested in carnal pleasures as those night flowers had thought. The girl wasn't any night flower Gin knew, though she couldn't claim to be acquainted with them all. But then she noticed the girl's fingers, and she came to a sudden stop, nearly tripping over her own feet.

The fingers on the girl's left hand were completely melded together, essentially creating a claw at the end of her arm.

Why was Booker Larkin talking to someone like her?

Holding her breath and ducking her head down, Gin willed herself invisible as she slipped into the shadows and inched closer to hear what they were saying.

"—still stand out," Booker was saying as he held the girl's deformed hand gently. "But it will be completely functional."

The girl sucked in her lips, staring at her hand and then glancing up at the doctor. "What sort of prosthetic?"

"Allow me to show you."

Even in the dark, Gin could hear the smile in his words as he released the girl's hand and reached into the pocket of his thick wool coat. She squinted her eyes in an effort to catch a glimpse of what he had. He held out the object to the girl, and it caught the light from a nearby gaslamp.

It was a hand.

A hand made of metal and gears.

Gin's mouth fell open at the sight of the device, and for a moment, she nearly forgot where she was and started to take a step forward. But at the sound of the deformed girl's gasp, she regained her senses and sank back into the shadows.

"It's . . . it's . . ."

"A miracle," Booker finished for the girl, a trace of smug satisfaction in his voice. "I can remove your deformed hand and replace it with this, giving you two fully functional hands."

The girl continued to stare at the bizarre creation, a mixture of awe and horror in her expression. "Sir, it seems unnatural."

"And this doesn't?" Booker replied, again taking hold of her clawed hand.

Her face scrunched up as though she were in pain, the girl looked from her hand to the mechanical prosthetic. She went back and forth for a long moment before finally taking a staggered breath. "I don't have much money," she said.

Booker shook his head. "I work with my financially strapped patients. Whatever you can afford will suffice."

"Really, it wouldn't be much."

"You can always pay me in other ways."

The girl quickly withdrew her hand and stumbled back a step, panic written across her face.

"No, not like that," Booker reassured her. "I simply mean, if I am in need of a favor or assistance, I can call upon you."

"What kind of favors?"

"Nothing too horrible. I'm new to the city and can't stay for extended periods of time, so I like to catch up on the gossip when I come back. Perhaps you could keep your ears open."

She hesitated and bit her lip. "I'm not really a gossiper, sir." Her eyes strayed to the deformed hand that she held against her chest. "But if the little money I have is not enough, I'll do what I can to assist you."

"Very good." Booker tucked the mechanical hand back into his pocket. "Now, I unfortunately will be leaving tomorrow morning. However, I can be back in two weeks' time, if that fits your schedule?'

The girl nodded slowly, her attention fixed to the pocket where Booker's creation was stashed away.

"I'll perform the surgery in my room at the Clocktower. It will take several hours. With this prosthetic, there are certain precautions that must be taken to keep it in good working order, but nothing too difficult. So? Does that work for you?"

She tore her eyes away from his pocket and met his steady gaze. Again, she nodded slowly, cradling her deformed hand to her chest.

"Excellent. I'll send a message when I've arrived. Until then, take care."

As the two parted ways, Gin flattened herself against the brick wall and waited until the sound of their footsteps was only a distant memory. When the road was empty, she dashed out of her hiding spot and hurried to St. Spittel. All thoughts of meeting up with Ford vanished from her mind as she played that conversation over and over in her head.

Was that Booker playing nice? Or was he truly performing this fantastic surgery for practically nothing just out of the goodness of his heart? Something told her that he most certainly had an agenda, but there was some strange, warm part of her that wanted to believe he was actually a good person. Well, hopefully not too good. If he was too good, he might not want her assistance.

And she was now even more determined to get in with this odd, rich doctor.

~

"Your lip's bleeding again."

Gin ran her tongue over her lower lip and caught the faint taste of metal. Cursing, she grabbed the dirty handkerchief Madison was holding out to her and pressed it against the cut without taking her eyes off the Clocktower.

"How is it still bleeding?" Madison asked, leaning against the wall of the alley they were hiding out in. "I thought Ford beat you up like two weeks ago."

"Ford hands out beatings like candy," she replied. "Especially to me."

Heaving a sigh, Madison crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you keep working for him? Does he have some sort of dirt on you?"

Her eyes flickered to him before returning to the alehouse. How could she tell him she was too afraid to leave Ford? Afraid that without the pathetic wages he gave her for risking her life, she'd starve to death. Afraid that leaving would send him into a violent fit that could end up with her dead. And then there was that heavy, sick fear nestled deep within her gut, the one that told her leaving Ford would be like leaving the only family she'd ever had. A twisted, cruel family, but family nonetheless. She was ashamed to admit even to herself that it was this fear that kept her working for Ford.

"I'm trying to bleed him dry of every penny he's got," she said, pleased that she was able to sound so brave despite that nauseous doubt in her stomach.

Madison glanced over his shoulder at the alehouse as a couple passed through the door. "That what you plan to do to this doctor?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Haven't decided just yet."

"I'd be careful with him, Gin. He seems awful clever. I mean, he has to be smart if he's a doctor, right?"

"I wouldn't say that. You've met the doctors in Tinkerfall, right?" She gasped when a familiar girl came into sight. She was clutching her left hand to her chest, her head low as she entered the Clocktower. "It's her."

Madison straightened up and glanced back at the alehouse. "What now?"

Gin shoved the handkerchief into his hands, drawing his attention back to her. "Is it still bleeding?" she asked.

He shook his head. "So, what are you gonna do? Do you need my help?"

She was already rushing towards the Clocktower. "I got a plan, don't worry," she called back.

Slipping inside the alehouse, she made her way towards the back. She didn't really have a plan. At least, not much of one. She knew she wanted to talk to Booker Larkin and somehow convince him to use her services. How to go about doing that, though, was beyond her. But she was clever and resourceful. She was certain she could manage.

She stationed herself by the stairs leading to the rented rooms. Booker had told the deformed girl that the surgery would take hours, so she knew she had a long time to wait. But she didn't want to chance losing him. So she settled in and let the buzz of conversation and the scent of tobacco seep into her bones, all the while keeping a sharp eye out for the doctor.

~

The lull of drunken laughter and the thick smell of spoiled stew nearly put her to sleep. Just when she thought her traitorous eyes were about to close, a young girl hurried down the stairs. Gin perked up and craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her hand, but the girl held it close to herself and out of sight. However, a flash of metal still peeked through.

He'd really done it. And based on the smile threatening to break over the girl's face, she was quite pleased with the results.

Holding her breath, Gin inched closer to the foot of the stairs, her every muscle on alert as she waited for the doctor to reveal himself.

It was a little while later that he followed his patient's path down the steps. His face was pale and drawn, and there seemed to be a sheen of sweat across his brow. Still, there was a satisfied smile on his lips. There was no doubt that he thought he was pretty amazing. But unlike Ford, Booker Larkin actually had proof to back up such grandiose opinions.

Gin had to bite her lip to keep back an amused grin. Maybe she could play on his ego? But would he be daft enough to fall for something like that? The glimmer of intelligence in his eyes said otherwise. It seemed like she'd have to wing this one.

Booker sat at a table and ordered dinner from a serving girl. Taking a deep breath, Gin prepared herself to meet him. Before she could even take a step towards his table, though, the empty seat across from him was filled by a tall woman who flashed him a big-toothed grin.

Adelaide.

Blast it all. That stupid night flower was always getting in the way. Gin watched from afar as Booker smiled politely and made conversation with the odious woman. How was she supposed to compete with the likes of a night flower? They were able to coax men out of their secrets in ways Gin couldn't even dream about until she was older. And even then, she wasn't so sure she wanted that sort of talent. There was no way she could outshine a pushy night flower like Adelaide.

Shaking her head, she clenched her hands into fists. No. There was no room for that kind of thinking. She was just as valuable as Adelaide. More so, in fact. She was only nine years old, give or take, and she'd already made a name for herself amongst the other urchins. She was the one they came to for help. She was the one who put together their elaborate jobs. She was the one who'd survived countless beatings and sure-death situations. Yes, she was worth far more than someone like Adelaide.

She just had to convince Booker of that.

Weaving her way through the crowd, she got closer to Booker's table so that she could catch a bit of their conversation. Over the raucous laughter and drunken singing, she was only able to make out a few words.

". . . no one . . . seen Viper?"

Viper. He was curious about the Mice. That probably wasn't a good thing considering Scales' interest in him. She wasn't sure just how clever Booker was, but she knew about Scales. Booker might not stand a chance.

Ah ha. That right there was her opening.

She circled the table several times, waiting for Adelaide to shut up and move on so that she could swoop in. Her opportunity finally came when a drunk man from across the room called for the night flower. With great reluctance, Adelaide left Booker alone, and Gin didn't miss a beat filling her place.

"You're gonna get yourself killed," she said as Booker swallowed a spoonful of stew.

The doctor practically choked on his food, and she tried to hide a satisfied smirk at having taken such a smart man by surprise. As he coughed into his napkin, he took stock of her, his brow furrowing in confusion. She lifted her bowler hat a bit to get a better look at him, and when their gazes met, she was confused by the sudden warm glow in her chest.

"Where the devil did you come from?" Booker asked.

She ignored the strange sensation. "You're gonna get yourself killed."

He leaned forward. "How old are you?"

Refusing to change the subject, she repeated once more, "You're gonna get yourself killed."

Booker narrowed his eyes at her before asking, "What do you mean I'm going to get myself killed?"

He took the bait. Perfect. "You ask a lot of questions."

"And that's going to get me killed?"

She nodded.

He gazed at her in silence for a moment. "Who exactly is going to kill me?"

Now to prove she wasn't cheap. "What will you give me?" she asked as she drummed her fingers against the table.

"Pardon?"

"What will you give me if I tell you?"

Sighing, the doctor dug into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. As he slid them across the table, she couldn't keep a grin from her face. She took the money and stuffed it into her pocket, hoping this wouldn't be the last business transaction between the two of them.

"So who is going to kill me?" he asked again.

She tried to be as nonchalant as she could. "The Dead Mice."

"The Dead Mice? As in the gang?"

"Yes."

"Why are they going to kill me?"

"They might kill you."

Booker gave a sharp laugh. "And I might raise the dead with electricity."

With the image of the deformed girl's new mechanical hand fresh in her mind, Gin wondered if this strange man was capable of such a thing. She thought of Madison's family. Could this doctor bring them back?

"Really?" she asked.

"No." But then he paused, as if considering the idea. "Well, maybe. But not right now. Did the Mice actually say they were going to kill me?"

She tried to put aside her disappointment about the dead not coming back to life. "No."

"Then why did you just tell me I was going to get killed?"

Ah, a lovely opening to tear down her competition. "Because you were talking to Adelaide."

"So?"

"She has a big mouth. And big teeth. But a bigger mouth."

Another laugh escaped from him, but this time it was filled with humor instead of disbelief. "Yes, her teeth are rather large."

That warm glow started up again, but she forced it down. "She's a night flower, you know."

"I'm well aware."

All too familiar with Ford's lustful ways, she asked, "Is that why you like her?"

Booker chuckled as he shook his head. "Trust me, child, I do not like Adelaide. There are very few people I like."

So Madison was right. This doctor did play at being nice. But at least he was honest about it. To her, at least. "Me, too. But I especially don't like Adelaide."

"Because of her big teeth?"

That was only the beginning of what she disliked about that upstart. "And her big mouth."

"So, does she talk about me with that big mouth?"

Another chance to incriminate her rival. "Yes."

"What does she say?"

Unfortunately, she hadn't heard Adelaide say anything all that damning about him. "That you're a handsome devil," she offered, deciding to play a little on his ego.

Booker tried to smother a self-satisfied grin. "Well, that's really no secret."

There had to be more. Something that could make him lose trust in the night flower. "And that you always try to get information from her."

The doctor's brows knit together, his eyes betraying his concern. "Hmm, really? Does she tell people what information I ask for?"

"Sometimes," she lied. Or maybe not. For all she knew, Adelaide did tell people what information she was fishing for. She wasn't the brightest lamp on the street.

"Has she told the Mice about me?"

"No, but they know."

"What do they know about me?"

"Your name." This much was true. She'd heard a few Mice mentioning him in the market, mostly in passing conversation. But he was mentioned nonetheless.

"Is that such a dangerous thing?"

"Not if you live here. But you don't. They don't usually care about people who don't live here. But not you. They seem very interested in you."

"Ah, so I've caught their attention. That could be troublesome. Perhaps I'll have to find a new information source. Or be more careful around her."

Yes! This was exactly what she'd been hoping for. "I'm good with information."

Booker smiled. "I can certainly see that. How do you find out so much?"

"I'm young and poor. Nobody pays me any mind, so it makes it easier to eavesdrop on them."

"How resourceful of you."

She sized him up. What could she get out of him? "Are you a doctor?"

"Do you need a doctor?"

"If you're a doctor, you must have a lot of money."

Booker stared at her for a moment, and she waited eagerly for him to catch her drift. Finally, he leaned forward. "What's your name?"

"Gin."

"A pleasure, Gin. I'm—"

"Booker Larkin."

His lips twitched. "You really do know quite a bit."

She smiled. He had no idea. "Yep, and for a price, I can help you to know quite a bit, too."

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he looked her up and down. She nearly held her breath, hoping he would see just how valuable she really was.

"If I can pay you well enough—and being a doctor, you know I can pay you well enough—would you be willing to bring me information while keeping what you know about me quiet?"

Unable to control her excitement, she nodded and practically stood on her chair to offer him her hand. "Deal!"

Booker laughed and took it. "Very good. I look forward to our partnership."

As he shook her hand, that strange warmth returned, and without thinking, she blurted out, "I like hair ribbons."

His brows knit together, a smile playing on his lips. "Hair ribbons?"

Was that silly? She just couldn't get those fancy hairpieces out of her head as she sat in front of such a well-dressed gentleman. "It doesn't always have to be money. I like hair ribbons, too."

The doctor looked like he might respond, but a clatter and a shout in the background stole his gaze away briefly. Two drunk servants had gotten into a fistfight over the same night flower, and they were beating each other to a bloody pulp. Worried that sticking around much longer could draw the attention of the wrong people, Gin took the distraction as an opportunity to slip away from the table and hurry out the door.

Madison was waiting right outside and chased after her. "What happened? How'd it go?"

She stopped and turned to him, her heart pounding wildly and her cheeks aching from the grin that wouldn't go away. Sticking her hand into her coat pocket, she pulled out the coins Booker had given her. "Tomorrow morning, we're getting fresh bread for breakfast."

Her friend's eyes went wide at the sight of the money. "Did that doctor give you those?"

Nodding, she stuffed them back into her pocket and practically bounced on the balls of her feet. "And butter. We should get butter, too. We need to celebrate."

Madison smiled, clearly catching her excitement. "What are we celebrating?"

She threw her arm around his shoulders and looked up at the night sky as they made their way to St. Spittel. "The future. I have a feeling it's going to be much more interesting starting tonight."