Inkling

8.3 Courage or Something of the Sort

6:40 P.M.

Daisy Valera was doing something she was not supposed to be doing. She was, in all truth, doing several things which she was not meant to be doing. Night was pulling itself up over the horizon, surely dinner had already started at home. But Daisy was not going home because Daisy had just caught a glimpse of Adam Wink darting behind what she was nearly positive was the office where a certain Lincoln Locke was employed.

That had, admittedly, only been enough to halt her forward progress. She was surely already in trouble for being alone and late and had convinced herself that she must hurry. That was, until she heard shattering glass come from the same building. Now it is important to note that nothing of importance or even remotely resembling excitement had ever happened to Daisy. She had gone to her tutor, been escorted to dances. She dressed as she was spoke and talked as she was told and kissed the cheeks of prominent men as she was told. She had never been particularly upset about doing as she was told.

    But adventure was beckoning in the form of an Adam Wink shaped shadow in the office window. Adventure seized her by the arm and shoved her toward a back alley she never would have gone down otherwise. The street was suddenly very empty and the click of her boots against cobblestone was suddenly very loud. She briefly considered taking off her shoes altogether, that's what a real heroine in her position would have done, right? But the air was biting cold and the stone wall of the office was gray as the sky and cold as the air. Surely the ground would be as well. So she tip-toed as quietly as possible (which was not very quiet) and came to find that Mr. Wink had not broken in through the door, but through the window. She had three chances to turn back, this was her first.

    But Daisy Valera had always been the one to turn back, to express her fear. To say no. So Daisy hiked up her skirts with one hand and dragged herself onto the glassless window with the other. It was harder than she had expected, which is to say she fell out of the window and back onto the ground outside. At which point she discovered the ground really was freezing and her dress did not serve her with as adequate padding as one would assume. She swore in both English and Spanish but found herself smiling. Her mother would be appalled. Daisy had always wanted to do something that would appall her mother.

    The smile was short-lived for she could hear someone moving inside and she could only hope it was Mr. Wink and not some criminal. Although it was entirely possible that Mr. Wink was the criminal. Daisy frown at her plan. She could have left, the noise was still in the interior of the office, she could have slipped away. But she did not. She stood up, brushed off her skirts, and peeked in through the window. Which happened to be at the exact same moment Adam Wink decided to peek through the window.

"Mierda." Daisy hissed, falling back onto her butt once more. Mr. Wink's eyes widened, going from surprise to recognition to severe annoyance. It was the last that stung. It was the last that confirmed her fear that this was not the type of thing she was meant to do.

"Miss Valera?" He had stood, stepped back through the window, and was looking from Daisy to the broken window back to Daisy. Like he was taking stock of what she knew and what she did not. Daisy looked around now, trying to figure out what she had missed. Which, of course, Adam noticed. He narrowed his eyes and tucked his hands into his pockets. From her place on the ground (for she did not wish to attempt to teeter onto her feet in front of Adam) she had a clear view of the knees of this trousers. Which were, of course, caked with dried blood.

She wanted to ask what he had possibly done to get his trousers in such a state, but her languages were getting muddled and for a moment, for she was flustered, she could not remember which she was meant to be speaking.

"What're you doing here?" He hissed, leaning forward and, apparently, trying to appear less threatening. This was apparent because he had stopped glowering from above and was now crouched next to her. This only succeeded in bringing his threat closer to Daisy and she grasped at the window sill, dragging herself to her feet rather ungracefully.

Daisy made like she was going to talk to him, and he stayed crouched down in what was probably an attempt to give her a feeling of having the upper hand.

Except she did have the upper hand.

Except instead of talking she struck out her food and clipped him in the temple and, when he crumpled to the ground, she ran.