Charley felt her breath leave her quietly, softer than the loud huff she meant to make if she'd been wrong. She settled back on her heels, swallowing back the lump in her throat. Circumstance had her all confused, it wasn't like Mrs. Meriwether was there herself, breathing down her neck. Still, the circus mistress had spent all the time and effort to get the urchin dolled up, it seemed only fair that she repay the kindness.

Could it still be kindness if it came with a threat?

"I knew you weren't gonna,," the urchin bluffed, hoping it covered up her shame at ever thinking so badly of Hestia. Kindness came without threat from the barwitch, whose nosy curiosity could work out on balance. A grin came back out again, ready to smooth all her problems over. "I was jes putting ya to the test, see, 'cause I really need to know who has my back."

It seemed to work for her, whether or not Hestia bought her bluff. The urchin felt her arms relax a little, leaning in on the witch's hard-won words. It sounded like she'd been in a scrape or two much like Charley was now, and had surely come out ahead of it to be standing in front of her now. The urchin nodded thoughtfully, trying to act much wiser than her hems and let-down hair would make her seem. "Ha! I knew you had a knack for this sorta thing."

Charley's smile came broadly now, fitting her face better. The lump in her throat wasn't going away, but that didn't mean she hadn't regained her confidence again. She was sure that, when they were finished, Mrs. Meriwether would be the one with a lump in her throat. "If you an' me put our heads together, I reckon we can come up with a plan to give that ol' circus biddy a proper turnabout."

She shook the book like a rattle, adding one last hook to her line for Hestia, "And make a tidy sum while we're at it, if you get my meaning."

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Hestia only frowned even further, before cocking her head and staring severely at Charley. “No one has your back, Charley,” She said bluntly. “That’s lesson number one; at least you shouldn’t expect them to.” She’d learned that early on; and while she did her best to look out for as many of the street urchins she came across, she could only do so much. The rest was up to them.

A grim ghost of a smile ticked up at the corner of her mouth. Charley seemed like she was a quick learner, but this was also a way for her to learn a lesson. Hestia’s quest for the book hadn’t been bound by a contract by any means, which meant her neck wasn’t on the line as much as Charley’s seemed to be. “No. This is going to be another lesson for you.” She decided, crossing her arms.

“You can take the book, but you need to think smart about it. Don’t let whoever hired you get the better of you. You can ask for help if you want, but this is going to teach you to be wise about who you decide to put your lot in with.”

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Welcome to The Iron Fang Inn.

The line had come out with perfect delivery, the urchin was sure. On a stage, it might have been met with applause at best, a nod or two from the audience at worst. And her fellow actor, companion to her character on the stage, would have to return a line of contrite acquiescence. That was how all stories had to go, Charley knew, because all stories needed a happy ending.

Happy for someone, anyway.

Charley was not that someone today. Her mouth turned down again, and her eyes found the floor. The edge of Hestia's skirts. The line of shoes whose masters queued for the auctioneer. Anywhere but the face of the woman she thought she could rely on. Who didn't, in fact, have her back.

"No one's got my back," she repeated. The words stabbed at her eyes, trying to trick them into tears. Charley wouldn't have it, she shook her head and sniffed them back up. "I en't some needy, little girl. I coulda done this all myself, and I'll be finishing it just fine!"

Alone. She didn't say the word, but it hung between them, loudly unspoken. The urchin gritted her teeth, holding back the bitter taste foaming in her mouth. Hestia, Mrs. Meriwether, Hogwarts, her parents. Every time Charley thought she could trust a grown-up, they proved her wrong. Left her abandoned, alone.

Alone was just fine with her.

"You'll see." Charley tipped her chin up, carrying her nose high with it. Her eyes flicked toward Hestia again, blinking free of any wetness. She scoffed through her nostrils, then spun on the heels of her polished shoes. The dress swished at the back of her knees as the urchin stepped quickly toward the door, and then out onto the street beyond.

The book, she'd toss into a sewer. Where it belonged, with the rest of the filth in this town. Where she belonged, the urchin knew, scraping and stealing for an existence. Well, it was her existence, and no one, not Hestia, not Mrs. Meriwether, not any grown up, was going to pluck her out of the sewers again.

Charley left the hair ribbon right beside the book, sliding slowly into the gutter. Where it belonged.

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