It was late night. The house was quiet. Sleeping or out, Lirssa didn't know. Even though she still went to the duels, it had been brief. The encounter with Michael at the inn the night before had meant for a bad sleep in its wake.

It also meant a lot of thinking. She did not belong there or in this house. She was a weakness, a way to get to Miss Fio. Plus, they were going to build their family, too, but ?all the messes of words, meanings, hopes mashed up in the grim reality of what she was: just a street kid, and now, a dangerous one to have around.

She blinked out of her thoughts and got back to the business at hand.

Dante was curled up on the lower bunk bed. Once again, Lirssa sat with her back to the door, split legged in her pajamas, as she looked over the latest additions to the gift pile. Two pairs of gloves one black and one brown had been the easiest gifts to pick out. She smiled, a delight previously unfettered by recent events now trapped in a wan smile. Still, she was still happy to have found them and just gotten paid when she did it, too.

The other gifts all had their particular struggles, for whatever reasons; finding the right color, needing to be put together, just the right size. Still, she was feeling pretty good about them all. The collection of children's artwork still wasn't exactly ready yet, but she'd work on that tomorrow. She had some trade in deliveries she could do with Mr. George the book mender. The mother of pearl dove pin with its green glass olive branch was place aside. It had taken a long time to find, but she knew who it was for the minute she saw it in the Marketplace. It was the tie pin right next to it that had taken her almost her whole lunch hour to decide. It was simple, but she liked the stone's multicolor shine.

A tapestry covered book of lined pages had been the most difficult to decide, only because the receiver was still such a mystery. She deserved something, but Lirssa had no real idea what. When she had spoken to Mr. George last, he had mentioned that giving someone a place to write down their thoughts, hopes, and dreams was always a good gift. So, for running a few deliveries, he had given her the diary in trade.

This all she bundled up again to hide beneath the mattress. It was a little more difficult to do with Dante there like a lump of lead, but she managed it. With a sigh, she crawled up to the top bunk and lay down, pulling covers up tight, and lay there blinking in the half shadows until sleep had a firm hold.