“Kitty!” Santana called, rushing across the gambling room floor to where Kitty stood against the bar, talking up potential business. “Kitty, could you take Kurt up a bowl of soup and a roll? I'm a little swamped at the moment.”

“I'll do it.” Sebastian jumped at the opportunity, seeing as he hadn't been able to visit Kurt since the day before. Even now, as he broached the possibility of spending his break with Kurt, Blaine, up in his balcony, talking over matters with one of his hired men, kept a watchful eye on Sebastian, ensuring he'd have no chance to leave his station and visit Kurt.

“Uh, I don't think so,” Kitty said when she glanced up Blaine's way and saw him glaring down at them, but namely at Sebastian. “Not if you wanna keep both ears. You know that Blaine can hit the left one at this distance.”

“Come on, Kitty,” her impatient customer at the bar said, reaching for her hand, “are we gonna go upstairs or not?”

“Sure,” Kitty assured him with a flirtatious smile. “I just gotta go run a little errand, and…”

“I'll do it,” Tina said behind them, causing all three to turn her way, each one wearing a suspicious expression.

“Why?” Santana asked, raising a scathing brow. “You don't even like Kurt.”

“Come on, Tana” - Tina waved a dismissing hand in front of her face - “you know me. It's not like that. I don't warm up to people all too quick. And I was really overwhelmed when this whole thing with him blew up is all…”

“Overwhelmed?” Kitty scoffed. “You decided to fuck a trick by the side of the road instead of getting the doc while the poor man lay bleeding to death!”

“Who told you that?” Tina asked, playing hurt to cover up her own suspicious tilt.

“Pastor Menkins told us,” Santana said, “over cards a few nights ago. He said he saw you guys. He even stopped for a bit of the show.” She shuddered at that admission. Some of the creepiest men they got in Blaine's place were supposed men of the cloth. “And does it matter who saw? You still did it! When Blaine found out, he wanted your head…” Santana crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes becoming dark. “And to be honest, chica, he's not the only one.”

Tina wasn't that impressed by Santana's attempts at intimidation, but the comment about Blaine nearly slaughtered her. She knew he had been angry at her. But, even then, she thought that angry was too strong a word. Annoyed seemed a more accurate term. But wanting her head? No. That had to be an exaggeration. Santana and the girls had a flair for the dramatic. But she filed it away and continued on, trying her hardest to come across as sincere.

“Look, I don't want us should fight.” she said, her hands raised in a gesture of truce. “I wanna do right by Kurt. I mean, that was horrible what happened to him. And he's gonna be here a while, right?” A sneer shadowed her words. “So, I should make nice. Extend the white flag. And I can start by bringing him his lunch.”

Santana, Kitty, and Sebastian glanced at one another, not a one of them believing her for a second, but as the three of them were currently engaged, there wasn't much else they could do.

“I don't think we've got any other choice,” Santana said, looking over at the table of gentlemen she'd left, beckoning her back, one shaking his bag of coin her way as an enticement. It was a move that definitely caught Blaine's attention, and when her eyes flicked up his way, he gestured to the table with a piercing stare and a sharp jerk of his head. “I've got a group thing in the main parlor with Britt. I gotta go.”

“Yeah, and we should be headin' upstairs, too,” Kitty's customer intervened, sounding positively irate. “Ain't that right, Miss Kitty?”

Sebastian watched both girls retreat with their customers to different areas of The Canary Cage, then looked up at Blaine, staring him down like an eagle would a wounded animal, waiting for it to make the wrong move so it could swoop in and go for the jugular. He heard a throat clear, and remembered Tina, waiting with hands on hips, smiling triumphantly in a way he didn't like one bit. But Santana was right. He didn't have a choice. Because if he asked Blaine for permission to take Kurt his soup, then Blaine would take it up to him himself, and as far as Sebastian was concerned, Blaine had already monopolized too much of the man's time.

“Alright,” Sebastian agreed. “I'll get you his bowl of soup. But be nice, Tina…or else.”

“Or else what?” she said with a derisive titter. She took Sebastian far less seriously than she did either of the other girls. She'd seen Kitty and Santana scratch. She knew they could bite. Santana, in particular, had a wicked left hook, and each of them carried a pistol under their skirts for close encounters. (Santana claimed she hid a knife up in her privates, but Tina didn't see how. Still, she wouldn't put it past her.) Sebastian, however, hid behind his bar, slinging drinks and making small talk. When a fight broke out on the gambling room floor, for the most part, he did nothing. He cleaned blood and sick off the wood, tossed the odd surly drunk out, and carried the girls upstairs when they were treated ill or feeling poorly. He was as neutered as they came. She'd seen men down an eye and a few limbs with more fight in them than Sebastian had. He sure as heck didn't frighten her.

Sebastian leaned forward over the bar, baleful green eyes capturing her gaze. She was amused by it at first, little Sebby Smythe asserting his dominance, until he started to speak, and the heartless quality of his voice, one she'd never heard him use with anyone before, shot straight through her like a bullet.

“Or else,” he said, “Blaine won't be the only one with a claim on your head.”

His tone was hostile enough to make his intent crystal clear, yet still, she couldn't take him seriously.

“Right,” Tina said, laughing him off despite his malicious attitude. “You don't have the nerve to touch me. Especially not with Blaine around.”

“Maybe not,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “But I wouldn't have to. Blaine's not the only man around here with the money it takes to make people disappear. And the men I associate with are a lot less showy than his, a lot less likely to leave a trail lying around for people to follow.” He knocked her a wink and a bone-chilling smile. “Savvy?”

Tina couldn't swallow after that. She'd heard things about Sebastian when she first showed up here, things that curdled milk, but seeing him day after day, with the same pathetic smile on his boyish face, hearing his constant pleases and excuse mes and thank yous, calling every girl in the place missus and madam, she didn't believe that a one of them could be true.

And maybe she couldn't make herself believe it now, but she figured she should still watch her back. She'd get a pistol of her own, keep it underneath her skirt during the day and under her pillow at night, make it a point not to sleep alone from now on.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, her cheeks burning red but her body stone cold. “Don't get your pants in a knot there, Sebby. Just fetch me the bowl, will ya?” Sebastian peeled himself away from the bar and headed for the kitchen, with Tina calling after him, “And make it quick there.”

Not because she was concerned about getting a healing man his lunch, but because she needed to be as far away as possible from Sebastian Smythe.

***

Thoughts of Blaine had begun entering Kurt's dreams; dreams of the like he'd never had before. Dreams where Kurt waited for Blaine in bed – their bed – naked, healed, strong, a whole man, with no more bruises to remind him of the broken person he was; no more hurts that needed mending; no more stitches holding his skin together; no more busted bones to splint. Blaine would walk in smelling of French lilac soap and clean linen, pants undone, shirt unbuttoned, skin washed and face unshaven. Kurt had seen him this way, and the image seared itself into his brain. It wouldn't leave him be – awake or asleep. Blaine would look him over shamelessly from head to toe and see a lover, not a helpless invalid, beaten and abused by his ogre of a husband, prisoner of a shoddy marriage with no way to break free. He would see Kurt waiting for him, pure and simple, and, in Kurt's dreams, what Blaine saw, he apparently liked.

Kurt fantasized Blaine licking his lips when he saw him, his eyes dancing, his desire for Kurt showing through the warmth of his smile, the eager reach of his arm…his growing member outlined in the front of his pants. Blaine would smile at him, touch his cheek, his palm against Kurt's skin pulling Kurt close. He'd kiss Kurt's mouth with no hesitation, no question, and no revulsion whatsoever. He wouldn't demand anything from Kurt. He wouldn't try to control him. He'd undress Kurt with reverence and treat him with respect, treat him as equal. Blaine would kiss down Kurt's neck, down his chest, whispering words of love as he went. He wouldn't tie Kurt up or hold him down. He'd give Kurt freedom to move. They'd move together, decide what to do, how fast to go, at the same time. Blaine would be tender, gentle. He wouldn't do a thing to hurt Kurt, wouldn't raise a hand to him, and for the first time in his life, Kurt would feel like an active participant. He'd feel adored and loved. He'd be with a man who wanted to fill him with pleasure, not fear and pain.

They'd make love together till the floor boards beneath them creaked, and the bed slammed against the wall. Kurt could almost hear it, too - ringing in his ears.

Clank…bang…clank…bang…clank…bang…BANGBANGBANG!

Kurt jerked, then startled awake, yanked rudely from his dream by the sound of high-heeled shoes clunking across the wood floor. Plates shuffled loudly off the bedside table, and new ones dropped in their place, an entire mug overturning, spilling water over the edge. Kurt's eyes snapped open, his head throbbing at the flood of light to his brain. He blinked a few times, then saw Tina, standing beside what he assumed was his lunch on the table. She glared at him with raw abhorrence in her eyes, as if he had rode into town on a black horse and savagely massacred everyone she loved.

“Are you alright?” Kurt asked, right as Tina dropped another dish on the pile. She stopped dead, as if Kurt's words had deeply offended her, and dumped the whole lot of dishes on the end of the bed, the noise thunderous to his ears.

“I don't like you,” she announced. “There. I said it.”

Kurt sat up slowly, confused by the way she stared at him, arms crossed, lips pressed tight, gaze set to bore holes through his forehead.

“I'm …sorry?” He didn't want to sound condescending, but it came across that way. He had no idea why this woman should hate him. Of all the girls working in Blaine's establishment, Tina had spoken to him only a handful of times, all along the lines of goodbye. She seemed distant, preoccupied, never making the time to come over and say hey. She spent much of her time in the balcony with Blaine, perched on his knee. Kurt figured that meant she was Blaine's favorite, and it made Kurt jealous out the eyeballs. But Santana assured him that there weren't nothing to it. She said Blaine liked to have a girl on his arm because it gave him panache, but that he hadn't taken up with any of them in a long while, definitely not since Kurt had started coming in to the place.

Santana also joked that Tina took to hanging in the balcony with Blaine because she didn't have much luck on the gambling hall floor with the rest of them around. Kurt's heart had gone out to her since the girls didn't seem to like her too much, and he imagined it must be lonely not to have any of them as friends. When he began visiting The Canary Cage regularly, and Blaine came down from the balcony to talk to him, Kurt saw Tina work the floor. She wasn't much adept at flirting, though she acted pleasant enough to everyone, provided they could pay for her time. Otherwise, she dropped them like a moldy, moth-eaten hat, which might explain why she wasn't too popular.  

She seemed to have her heart set on Blaine though. Kurt thought it was a matter of admiration. All the girls had it. But with Tina…Kurt didn't know. There seemed to be a hold on her, and he wondered if there had ever been a promise between them. Blaine would probably be willing to tell him, but Kurt had no idea how he would even ask such a question.

“You should be,” she snapped. “Comin' in here like ya own the place and screwin' everything up.” Kurt opened his mouth to defend himself, but she hurried on before he could retort. “Let me tell you something about Blaine, Kurt. He is the best man you'll find anywhere around these parts. Oh, he may have his mean moments, and he may seem hard as iron, but he's human. And a human man deserves to be loved, Kurt. Truly and honestly loved.”

“Really,” Kurt said dryly. “You don't say.” He'd be more than happy to lecture Tina on the finer points of deserving to be loved, but she wouldn't stop yapping.

“Now, he seems to have taken a shine to you,” she railed on, not wanting to hear him out, “and that I cannot help. But I will tell you one thing – there are plenty of people willing to love him the way he should be loved, absolutely and completely; people willing to spend their lives with him, ring or no. Plenty of people who deserve him more than you, Kurt, so you just remember that.”

“I don't really understand what you're trying to say,” Kurt said, his hackles rising. He'd stand and face her down properly if he had the strength to do it. Just thinking about getting up out of bed and standing to his full height made his knees knock together, assuming their own weakness. He didn't appreciate being talked to this way when he literally couldn't stand up for himself.

“What I'm sayin' here is back off, Kurt. I won't be havin' you waltz on in here, makin' Blaine turn all love-struck for you, then breaking his heart when you finally run off to New York and leave him. He deserves better than that.”

Waltz? Kurt wanted to laugh bitterly at her choice of words. Laugh until his bones re-broke and his stitches tore. Did anything he did to get here look like waltzing to her?

“Well, while I appreciate your concern,” Kurt said, smoothing the blankets around him, needing to occupy his hands so he didn't pick up something on the table beside him and throw it at her head, “and I'm certain that Blaine appreciates your loyalty, Blaine's a big boy…”

“He sure as shootin' is,” she cut in, rolling the words behind a suggestive smirk that set Kurt's ears burning. But he didn't bite back. He didn't want this woman to know she'd gotten to him. So what if she and Blaine had messed around? That had nothing to do with him, or anything potential that he and Blaine might share. But he also had to be realistic, and look at the long term. This thing he had for Blaine, the feelings he had, this need growing within him, it read to him like infatuation. Blaine was one of the first men who treated Kurt with kindness, who looked at Kurt and saw the man beneath the black eyes and the scars. And look at all he'd done to get Kurt healed and out of danger. Of course, one look from Blaine could make Kurt's toes curl in his boots, but that's because Blaine was an exceptionally charming and handsome man. He knew how to use those assets to his best advantage. He probably did it so often that he didn't even realize when he did it.

That didn't mean Kurt was special.

But aside from that, Kurt had to face the facts. The life he wanted was in New York, and he had to work toward getting to it, with or without Blaine in his life, or else everything that had happened up till this point would have been for nothing.

“I'm confident he can make those kinds of decisions for himself,” Kurt finished coolly, staring at Tina with steely eyes. “He seems to be a more than competent businessman, with a good head on his shoulders. And to be frank, I think he might find it a bit insulting that you feel the need to fight his battles for him – battles that might not actually exist, or at least, have nothing to do with you. Because I don't really think that Blaine's business is your business, especially not where it concerns his relationship with me.” Tina's superior expression dropped clean away, and Kurt's grin rose. “Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to finish my nap.” Kurt maneuvered himself on the bed to put his back to her. “You can see yourself out. Oh” – He regarded her half-wise over one shoulder – “and I'll be talking to Blaine about not asking you to come up here to help me. Save you the trouble of interrupting your work.” Kurt slid down under the blankets till they covered his head, curled up with his knees tucked tight against his chest, and shut his eyes, determined to ignore whatever tantrum Tina chose to throw before she left.

It was the same technic he'd used in an attempt to avoid David's temper time and again, not that it was too successful. He hated that he had to employ it here, in his place of safety.

Tina glared hotly at the lump huddled underneath Blaine's blankets that was Kurt. He wasn't going to go away willingly, that was for damn sure. And why would he? Blaine was making it nice and comfy for Kurt here – new job, a place to stay, free meals, a salary, on top of the singular attention he obviously craved. Of course he wasn't going to give that up.

That didn't mean that getting rid of Kurt was impossible. Nothing was impossible. It was just going to be a tad more difficult than she had originally anticipated.

But, maybe that was because she was appealing to the wrong man.

***

Tina had gone the past two weeks watching Blaine sit vigil at Kurt's bedside, and she despised it. She wasn't like the rest of the girls at Blaine's place. She didn't go gaga over Kurt when he first walked through the door. Tina didn't need another hard luck, lost cause stumbling in with a sad song to nurse back to health. Unlike other people who found their way into Blaine's saloon, Tina didn't have a tragic backstory that brought her to The Canary Cage. Sure, her parents tossed her out with the trash when she was only a newborn, covered in blood with cord still attached, because they didn't need another girl to waste food on, but she didn't hold that against them.

It was the same old story with plenty of immigrant families from her corner of the world – already burdened with a daughter, and trying for years in hopes of having a son, disappointed by the arrival of yet another daughter. The first daughter was worth little, the next daughter worth less, and so on and so on, until a freshly-birthed, beet root faced baby girl wasn't even considered a human being anymore. If they weren't strangled at birth, they might be drowned, traded, or sold.

The only real value in a first born daughter was in striking a good match, but no respectable man wanted the second or third in line. So consequent baby girls were often tossed on the rubbish heap with the moldy lettuce and maggot-ridden rice for the dogs to eat. But in Tina's case, a nice, well-off, childless couple found her and took her in. They raised her as their own, gave her a decent education, and a life free of want. They spared the rod and spoiled her plenty. In the grand scheme, she had no reason to feel sorry for herself.

But marriage at eighteen to a lawyer or an accountant wasn't what she wanted, so she ran away. She rode what there were of the rails, disguised as a man, until she reached Lima, where the tracks ended. That's when she saw him - Blaine Anderson, strolling down the street, whistling to himself, smiling and tipping his hat to the men and women he passed. He was being polite, personable, not really paying anyone too much mind. But when he saw her, dressed in her father's suit, which she had tailored to hide her figure; her long, ebony hair falling free of her hat; there was a moment when he stopped walking. He looked at her and pursed his lips. Then he smiled, big and bright, and she knew right then and there that the two of them were meant to be.

He'd extended her an arm and brought her inside, gave her a hot meal and a dress to wear, and she'd been one of his girls ever since.

No, Tina wasn't at The Canary Cage because she was running away from something.

She was there for one reason, and one reason only.

Blaine Anderson.

Tina didn't bring in much money compared to the other girls. She didn't entertain too often. She preferred to sing for her supper (though she rarely got the chance). She'd sit in on a game, serve drinks, keeping herself available to adorn Blaine's lap whenever he needed to show off a piece. She had two regulars. The first, a bookish young man named Arthur, attended school in the next town. He was soft-spoken and kind, wore glasses, and had a strange limp that required him to rely heavily on a cane. She didn't normally go for the infirm, but he treated her with miles of respect, wasn't bossy in bed, and was a real good tipper. Her other regular was a cowboy who called himself Mike. He was an immigrant from China, like Tina's birth folks. But unlike a lot of transplants, he changed his name the second he stepped on American soil. He visited The Canary Cage whenever their paths crossed, which it seemed to do more and more often as of late. She didn't know how much trail hands were being paid these days, but he had plenty of money to spend on her. He was upstanding, moral, polite, and hardworking. By all accounts, he would make a perfect husband. Her adopted parents, so fired eager to marry her off, might even approve…if she ever spoke to them again, which she hadn't since she left.

But it didn't matter to her if both those men were the long lost heirs of King Midas, with castles full of gold to their names and only a want to spend it all on her.

Neither of those men were Blaine.

In Tina's eyes, Blaine was a prince among men. As far she was concerned, he needed to get away from Kurt and realize that there were better things in life, better people. People who didn't need fixing. People who would accept him for who he was. People who had been there for him for a while now, and who had no intentions of leaving, no matter what the trouble.

If Blaine couldn't see that for himself, she'd have to find a way to make him see.

But that proved difficult since he didn't want her within a mile of him lately. When he saw her coming, he'd scowl at her and walk the other way. She figured her best bet was to corner him in his balcony. She pretended to talk up a john while she kept an eye on Blaine, waiting for his hired men to leave. Once they headed off down the stairs, she made her move, leaving the drunk man on his bar stool, completely unaware that she had left. She cut through the crowd, making her way up to Blaine's loft before anyone could decide that they needed to speak with him. Blaine spotted her coming up the stairs, but before she could open her mouth to say hey, he waved her away.

“I'm not givin' you permission to be up here,” Blaine said, his gaze aimed at the gambling floor below, watching the general goings on the way he always did, except that he didn't seem committed to the moment. His mind was elsewhere, and Tina could guess where that was.

“Oh, Blainey,” she cooed. “Don't be like that.”

“I'll be however I damn well please,” he said. “You just be grateful I don't put your ass out on the street, the stunt you pulled.”

“I am grateful, Blaine,” Tina said with bile on her tongue. “I wish you'd let me up and show you how much.”

Blaine chuckled mirthlessly. “I'd rather fuck a hornet's nest raw. But I reward loyalty, and you've been loyal. Next time, I won't give it a second thought.”

“I know,” Tina said, this kowtowing sticking her like a cattle prod to the heart, since she wouldn't have to do it if it wasn't for Kurt.

God dammed fucking Kurt.

“Besides, I'm not stayin' up here. I'm gonna go check on Kurt. So skedaddle.”

“What a coincidence,” Tina said in her honeyest voice, overlooking Blaine's vile insults, “since that's exactly who I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Yeah?” Blaine pricked up with a bit more interest. “Well, get to talkin'. You've got one minute.” Blaine took out his pocket watch to put emphasis on it.

She lifted her foot to take the final step up, but he threw up a hand to stop her.

“Nu-uh,” he said. “You can talk to me just fine from there.”

She submitted to a spot on the step one below. She seethed behind her eyes, but smiled with a sympathy that was practiced. On the norm, she didn't feel sympathy for most no one.

“I think he's got the idea that you're sweet on him,” she said, fretting her hands in front of her where Blaine would be sure to notice. “And I don't know how comfortable he is with that.”

“Well, it's not your place to be thinking for him,” Blaine said. “If something I do or say bothers him, he'll tell me.” Or maybe not, he realized, considering Kurt's husband made it plain what happened when Kurt objected to the way he was treated. But Blaine wasn't going to admit that to Tina. He knew what she was about, what she wanted. That didn't mean she didn't have eyes and ears. She could be telling the truth. Blaine constantly over-thought his actions where they involved Kurt. He was willing to admit to himself that he did like the man, and that he had gone ahead and appointed himself to the role of guardian unsolicited. But as far as he could tell, Kurt wasn't in a position where he could ask for help. Blaine had to step in and give it. He didn't think anything he'd done had made Kurt uncomfortable. “If that's all you gotta say, then you should just run along. I've got some thirsty, lonely customers downstairs while you're up here jibber-jabberin'.”

“That ain't all,” she said, steeling herself for her next remark. “I don't think it's right of you to string him along.”

Blaine raised a furious brow. He sat forward in his chair, fit to leap out and meet her nose to nose. She clenched her hands tight to keep from backing down another step.

“I'm not stringin' him along,” Blaine said. “And besides, I don't see why you care.”

“Blaine” – Tina's gaze, steeped in faux regret, dropped solemnly to the floor - “I know you're angry with me, but I care about you. And believe it or not, I care about Kurt, too.” She nearly bit her tongue in half when she said it. Blaine chuckled sarcastically, and her gaze popped up. “I do. God, you think a one of y'all would give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“Benefit of what doubt?” Blaine countered in the same sarcastic voice. “You tryin' to tell me that you've gone through some massive change of heart since the night you almost let him die?”

Tina gasped. She could possibly understand Blaine being angry, but claiming she would have had a hand in killing Kurt…that was taking things a bit too far. But she was willing to overlook it, seeing as he was emotional, his association with Kurt turning him daisy-headed.

“You can be mad at me forever if you want, Blaine…”

“I don't need your permission,” Blaine cut in.

Again, Tina bit her tongue.

“…but I think you and I and everyone here knows…you can't keep him.” Tina softened her tone. “He has big plans, Blaine. He talks about them all the time. And he has every right to follow them.”

“I know,” Blaine said. “He wants to go to New York. I don't mean to keep him from that.”

“Yeah, I know you know, but I also know that look on your face.”

Blaine huffed. “And what look is that?”

“Those hound-dog eyes, and that gaze, full of longin'. That's you hopin' he'll decide he's happy here and stay. But he ain't gonna be happy here, Blaine, and it would be a sin to try and force him for your sake.”

“You don't know that,” Blaine argued. “Maybe he would. Or maybe…”

Tina watched the expression on Blaine's face change, his gaze casting over the balcony, chasing a train of thought off in the distance. To the future, she realized, with an ice cold knot forming in her burning stomach.

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe it's time I made a change,” Blaine said. “Do sumthin' different. I mean, The Canary Cage has been good to me and all, but I never intended it to be forever, to tell you the truth.”

“But…but…it ain't been forever!” Tina insisted, on the verge of panic. She knew it! She knew something like this would happen! That sad sack coming in here would ruin her life, shut down her home, and steal her Blaine away. “And what about the rest of us, huh? Where would we go if you closed up shop?”

“I wouldn't be closin' up shop. I'd keep it open, just under new management.” Plans started coalescing in Blaine's brain. Tina could see them sparking behind his eyes, and that knot in her stomach grew bigger and bigger until it felt like she would burst. “Sebastian's a smart guy. Maybe he'd like a hand at runnin' the place in my stead. He might even buy in a share. I could open up in New York, too. Make The Canary Cage a chain.”

It'd also keep Sebastian from following Kurt when they left, pining after him like a love sick puppy. That was reason enough for Blaine for keeping the place open in Lima.

Tina bit her lips together to keep from making a snide remark. No way could she stay here if Sebastian ran the place, not that that was ever a question, but especially not after what happened downstairs. She knew she'd never be invited to go with them to New York, but she didn't want to go there anyway. She'd come from there, and she didn't quite get what the big deal was. Why go to a place that's filthy, smelly, crowded, and filled to bursting with pickpockets, and desperados right off the boat? And talking about boats, they came through every day, stuffed to the gills with people, each one a stinking, rotting mess of disease and vermin. God, no. She'd done too much to get away from all of that. She wasn't going back.

Again, not like she'd be invited.

“Are you sure you could be happy in New York, Blaine?” she tried. “You'd be startin' again, from the bottom, and you know how you feel about that.”

“It wouldn't be from the bottom,” Blaine said, knowing she was appealing to his pride. “The Canary Cage's famous in these parts, and New York ain't that far. People there gotta know about us. But I ain't afeared of startin' over if it comes to that. It might be exciting. And New York, Tina? Who wouldn't be happy in New York? Come on.”

Tina nodded, on the brink of defeat. But that was okay, because this wouldn't be the final battle.

The war had just begun.

“That's not all,” she said, pulling out the last card up her sleeve. “Of course, it ain't my place to say…”

“You're right,” Blaine cut her off, hoping to hear the end of it. “It ain't.”

“But, Kurt,” she continued, “he's hurtin'. He just got out of a bad relationship…and an awful, terrible marriage. Do you think it's fair to tie him down again so soon? Don't you think he deserves his freedom?”

This time, Blaine's response wasn't as quick coming as the rest. He stuttered, this one thought at the actual core of his doubt, and Tina knew she'd hit pay dirt.

“I never said a thing about tying him down.”

“You don't have to. He'll do it himself. You've heard his story. It's in his nature.”

“Why would he?” Blaine bit. “He's his own person. He knows his own mind.”

“Out of obligation, Blaine. After all you done for him, the care you've given him, the money you've spent on him. You've given him a place to stay, with no expectation of him payin' you back. I know you'll come up with some kind of repayment…” she added when she saw Blaine ready to object, “to make him feel better and all, but you'll find a way to slip it back, pad his paycheck when he ain't lookin', or leave it in his pocket after the two of you…” Tina stopped and swallowed, the idea of Kurt sporting around with her Blaine something she couldn't stomach, let alone give voice to. “But he's already put himself on the block once, sold himself off for security's sake. He'll do the same for you, and I think…well, I think that's just wrong, Blaine.”

Blaine stared at her blankly, then he laughed. Or he tried to. “Y-you don't know what you're talking about, Tina. And I'm tired of listening to you.”

“Blaine…”

“Get downstairs and earn a living, or leave.” He turned hard eyes away. He put his back to her, the way Kurt had, and Tina knew he wouldn't listen to anymore.

She sighed dramatically.

“Just…think about it,” she said. She waited for some acknowledgement, and when she didn't get it, she turned on her stair and headed down. She didn't say everything she wanted, but she knew in her heart, she'd said plenty. She didn't like entertaining men much, but she knew them a fair bit, knew from traveling with them and listening to their talk. She knew that a single thorn pricking in their brains was sometimes all they needed to second-guess themselves. She just hoped the thorn she'd stuck Blaine with was big enough to do the trick.

But Blaine didn't have to be stuck, because he‘d already been thinking about those things.

It frightened Blaine how quickly he'd decided he'd follow Kurt anywhere, leave his home here at The Canary Cage and join him in New York. Blaine hadn't been lying to Tina. He had long thought he could use a change of scenery, maybe get his life back on its original course. He had dreams once, too. Dreams not that different from Kurt's. Maybe Kurt's coming to his saloon was more than an accident. Maybe it was more like fate. Maybe Kurt was the light that would lead him back on the path he had strayed so far from.

Blaine knew he could be good for Kurt, be a loving partner, a far cry better one than David, if Kurt only gave him the chance.

But more frightening than his sudden swell of affection for Kurt, his need to protect him and aid him in any way, was the prospect that Kurt might not want him.