"Uhh, it's nothin'." Jack muttered, folding Angela's letter and shoving it into his back pocket.

"Aren't you supposed to be selling newspapers right now?" Clara asked, her brow furrowing.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I am. I jus'...forgot somethin'." Jack fibbed. Clara nodded brightly. She glanced around the bunk room, her eyes casually flicking back to Jack's face.

"Is there somethin' I can do for ya?" Jack asked, confused that she hadn't left the room yet. Clara smiled at him and didn't answer immediately. She looked over at the sizable stack of papers at Jack's feet.

"How many papers does a normal newsie sell?" Clara asked, showing unusual interest.

Jack shrugged. "Prob'ly 30 to 50." he ventured.

"And how many do you have there?" Clara indicated at his newspapers.

"Hundred." Clara's eyes widened.

"Wow. You must be some newsie," she breathed. Jack grinned, not being able to resist the compliment. Clara beamed back at him. Jack's smile suddenly vanished as he realized that he had been smiling at her a little too long.

"Well, I gotta go sell my papes." Jack said abruptly and picked up his stack of papers.

"How do you sell newspapers anyway?" Clara inquired. Jack paused in mid stride, already halfway across the bunk room. He shifted he weight and turned around to look at Clara.

"Well...I..." Jack hedged. Clara looked at him expectantly. She was used to getting what she wanted for the most part.