Cheshire was staring at the fence, his face still a youthful mix of pride and bashfulness. As irritating as Jakub found it, he couldn't help but admit that there was also something charming about that much enthusiasm. Not that it would last in their line of work. "Bloom."

Cheshire startled, and he seemed to go through several expressions before settling on uneasy hope. "That was something, huh?" he said.

Jakub rolled his eyes and took hold of Cheshire's elbow to drag him toward the barn. "Come on. You carry the wood."

Cheshire allowed himself to be led. "Uh, sorry I got you in trouble," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "I got carried away."

"I understand wanting to shut up Barney," Jakub admitted. "But did you intend to hit the fence?"

Cheshire squirmed, though he didn't try to shake Jakub's hand off him. "Well, sure! Mostly. I think." When Jakub shot him a steely look, he relented. "No, not really."

They reached the barn, and as soon as they were inside Jakub pulled Cheshire into the corner. "Look at me," he said, and he actually felt a little better right away when he saw Cheshire gulp. "Can you not control it?"

"I can," Cheshire replied quickly. "Mostly. I mean, I'm still learning—I haven't exactly had many opportunities to, you know."

"Bomb things?"

"Yeah, that." Cheshire squirmed some more beneath Jakub's stare. "But I am getting better at it! Um...sorry."

Jakub sighed, running his fingers through his hair again to be absolutely sure he'd gotten all the splinters out. "Bloom, today is serious," he said, lowering his voice to impart as much gravity as possible. "The Fouchers, they bring us whiskey. We take it, we sell it. It's important. You understand that?"

Thankfully, it appeared that Cheshire did. "Yeah, I understand."

"The Boss brought you because you are new," Jakub went on, since he had Cheshire's full attention. "When Fouchers come, keep your mouth shut and move barrels. You're the big man—look serious. That is your job. Okay?"

Cheshire made the attempt, but a grin crept into the corner of his mouth. "The big man?" he repeated.

"Don't be a ass," Jakub retorted. "You understand me."

"I know—I do—I'm sorry." Cheshire held his hands up in surrender even though he was still smiling. "I get it: I'll be good."

"Good."

A few of the others were entering the barn, so Jakub turned away to help them root out some wood to replace the fencepost. Cheshire followed a step behind.

"But it's an ass," Cheshire corrected him playfully. "A big man. An ass." Another long, icy stare had him surrendering again. "I'm just trying to help!" he said, but as the seconds ticked by he tried a different tactic. "Seriously, I'm not making fun of you. How long have you been in America? Your English really is good."

Jakub scowled and continued on, rolling up the sleeves of his jacket. That time he knew just what face he was making, and Cheshire read it loud and clear. "Sorry," Cheshire apologized awkwardly again. "That was patronizing. I didn't mean..." He followed Jakub's example of unbuttoning his cuffs. "It's just, I speak a whole lot of English. You may have noticed. So, I could help you? If you wanted?"

Jakub tried to ignore him, but he couldn't help himself; he looked. And Cheshire looked so damn earnest, it was impossible not to feel a tug of sympathy. He sighed. "It's 'told you before,' isn't it?" he said. "Not 'said you before.'"

"Yeah," said Cheshire, almost as a sigh, as if he had been restraining himself all along. "Told you, or said to you. But 'told you' is better."

"Told you," Jakub muttered to himself. "I told you. Told you so...." He shook his head and waved for Cheshire to go on. "Look, they found wood. Go help them carry—I'll find the hammer and nails."

"Okay!"

Cheshire trotted off, and Jakub rubbed his face, no idea what to do with himself.

***

Cheshire wasn't any better at rebuilding a fence than he was shooting, but he followed Jakub's every instruction. With the entire crew working to save face they managed to have the post replaced and beams nailed long before the Foucher trucks sputtered up the lane. Only then did Kasper emerge again from the house, and they formed ranks in the yard outside the barn, putting on a good show as usual. Jakub turned to Cheshire, expecting to have to remind him of his manners, but he didn't have to.

Cheshire took one deep breath, and his demeanor changed. With his hands in his pockets he squared his broad shoulders to the incoming Fouchers, back straight, eyes confident and alert. No one would have found him out of place among the experienced criminals beside him, and even if they did, he would have been more easily mistaken for an underboss than a teenaged lackey. Jakub almost didn't believe what he was seeing, and it wasn't until he heard the slam of a truck door that he jarred back to proper attention.

The Foucher family disembarked, and at the head was Lottie Foucher herself: a sturdy, brick house of a woman with natural hair pulled back in charmingly haphazard puffs. Jakub had met her a dozen times before and never ceased to be impressed by the strength of her bearing as she marched up to Boss Kozlow, shaking his hand with an iron grip. It was only after he'd handed her a satchel, and she'd hefted it to judge the weight, that she broke into a friendly grin. "Kasper, you old goat. I brought you the good stuff."

Kasper pulled a face and motioned for his crew to get to work. "I'd hope so."

Hannah directed the transfer of barrels from one set of trucks to the others. Jakub kept his head down and followed instructions, as he was used to, and was relieved to see Cheshire doing the same. Even Barney, still cowed from earlier, was a good little soldier. Kasper and Lottie stood back, talking business. Jakub caught a word here and there, but it wasn't until he heard fence that his attention tuned in to them. And by then it was too late.

"Bloom," called Kasper. "Come over here."

Jakub was in the middle of loading a barrel; there was no way for him to disengage without drawing attention. He watched with breath held as Cheshire happily obeyed. The three of them stood close together, conversing in low tones Jakub had no hope of overhearing. He couldn't believe it, but Cheshire's face remained chiseled in an expression of calm professionalism the entire time. But by the time Jakub had finished with the barrel and turned back, Lottie was pulling something out of her jacket pocket, motioning to Cheshire in a terribly foreboding way.

Jakub started toward them; it would have been entirely inappropriate for him to interrupt, but he couldn't help himself. Before he had a word in his mouth, Lottie tossed what looked like her pipe toward the open field. Cheshire lifted his hand, and with a loud percussion and a burst of fire, the pipe exploded overhead.

Everyone turned in alarm; the Foucher kids even reached for their guns. Lottie's hearty laughter calmed them down. "Now that is something," she declared, smacking Cheshire heartily on the back. "You're gonna lend him to me sometime, Kas."

"For a price," replied Kasper.

Beside him, Cheshire smiled, modest and even a little charming. But Jakub could see the pinch of his eyes that proved what an effort that much humility was.

Lottie and her family didn't stick around after the whiskey had been loaded; she and Kasper shared only a brief toast, and then she was on her way, headlights disappearing south. Once they were out of sight, Kasper ordered his crew to do the same. They would need to arrive in the city before dawn if they were going to avoid drawing suspicion. As everyone began to load up, Jakub wasn't surprised to see Cheshire edging cautiously toward him.

Jakub waved him closer, but once they were face to face he had no idea what to say. The air of maturity Cheshire had suddenly mastered was unexpectedly unnerving. He cleared his throat. "Well."

"I did okay, right?" Cheshire asked, and Jakub couldn't help but blush again beneath the intensity of his focus. "For that last part, anyway."

Jakub hemmed. He didn't want to encourage him, but then again…. "Fine," he replied stiffly. "For the last part."

It wasn't much encouragement, certainly not as much as Cheshire actually deserved for restraining himself through the Foucher meeting. Even so, it seemed to be all he needed; he grinned openly and may have even blushed a little himself. "There, see? You're starting to like me."

"But I just…."

There was no point in saying more, though, because by then Cheshire was already climbing into the truck. With a sigh, Jakub followed. Maybe he would be lucky, and his partner would keep up the act a while longer. It was not to be—as soon as Cheshire settled next to Hannah, he turned to her, beaming. "It really was something, right? That explosion?"

Hannah groaned, and Jakub hunkered down in his seat, trying to ignore the warmth of Cheshire's shoulder against his. It was a very long drive back to the city.