The copper put her down at last, delivering air into Charley's waiting lungs. Free to breathe at last, she took a few —and then a couple more for show— long, gasping breaths. The urchin nodded to conserve her energy, but she wasn't free at all. Not really. The urchin's hurt eyes glared up from under her red cap at the man who still kept an iron grip on her wrist.

Charley pulled at it, giving her arm a hard wretch. She twisted and wiggled in his grasp, straining against the ease of the copper's strength. She whined again, not yet certain it was futile, "Lemme go!"

Down on the street, the flowers had fallen out of their packaging and now blooms and stems stuck out at all ends. Charley gasped again and reached for it, suddenly haunted by the spectre of Mrs. Mann grilling her over a failed delivery and dirty flowers. To the urchin, her ire was far worse than that of a constable, no matter how tall or strong. "Please," she tried desperately, "I gotta deliver those. It's important!"

The urchin wasn't putting on a show now, her long face turning back up at him. Crying would actually help her now, but all Charley could feel was a cold fear drilling down into her stomach. Making her hand as small as possible, she tried once more to pull it free. "I don't care about that dumb muffin! I en't even hungry no more!"

What copper wouldn't let her go now that the urchin proved she wasn't even a threat?

---