James appeared under her window, waiting and pacing. Vigil could just make out a suit on him, and she hurried to finish her hair. She didn't want to bother Margaret with it, since she had already canceled her weekly joint runaways.

She whipped a dress on that she had been saving, a deep crimson garb with a low neck and a skirt that showed half her thighs. Straightening her hair into a shiny bob, she grabbed a pair of impossibly high heels and tiptoed outside.

James was still looking up at the window, and she cleared her throat. He spun around, and she smiled.

"How do I look?"

He raised his eyebrows, and paused. "You look... terrible."

Vigil's face dropped. "What?"

"You look like an effing prostitute, that's what!" He exclaimed.

Vigil scoffed. "I thought it looked nice."

He shook his head and stared at the sky, refusing to look at her. "Go put some clothes on, Vigil. This is not you."

With a huff and roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and trudged upstairs. Yanking the first thing she saw over her head, she grabbed a another pair of heels and returned back outside.

"Happy now?" She said, gesturing to herself.

James blinked at her. A smile broke over his face, staring at the simple knee-length gown she had changed into, pearls beaded into the cream-colored silk. Her low heels had improved walking by ten, and her hair was already popping back into its wild mess of curls.

"It's stunning," He said with a grin. "I'll be the luckiest chap there."

~~~~~

"I thought you didn't want me in jazz clubs," Vigil said as they walked down the city streets. She mocked a man's voice. "Mr. You're-parents-wouldn't-want-you-in-a-place-like-this."

James shook his head. "This isn't like that club," He said, sounding almost passionate. "This is one of the biggest jazz clubs in London. It's where the serious people go, not just useless flirt vamps with no life."

"I'm a useless flirt vamp with no life." Vigil laughed.

He snorted. "My point exactly."

They stopped at a huge, glittering building, fist sized light bulbs beading the sides. James pulled a beaming Vigil inside, where a rush of energy suddenly hit her.

The inside was crammed with people, dancing and laughing and talking. A whole band stood in the midst of it all, fingers and lips moving rhythmically to the beat.

James held a hand out to her just as the music softened. Vigil smiled and took it, resting her head on his chest. He stiffened in surprise, but soon relaxed.

"This reminds me of when I first met you." Vigil murmured, entranced by the steady flow of music.

James' body vibrated with laughter. "I remember I was sitting, trying to find music inspiration. And this pretty brunette flapper kept staring at me, I was afraid there was something in my teeth."

"I looked like a flapper to you?" She said, raising her eyebrows.

"Of course," He replied. "You were the best dressed girl there."

"By the way," Vigil said, lifting her head up. "I haven't heard a lot about your musical passion."

"I have been trying to find inspiration, some good lyrics."

"You should try singing here," Vigil said, suddenly excited. "It's an amazing club."

"So you like it?"

Vigil nodded happily. "It's one the best places you have taken me so far, right under your unnamed ship."

"Even more than the carousel?" He said, grinning.

She cringed, remembering her terrified squeal when the horse started moving. "Ugh, please don't remind me."

"It's a fake horse," James said in a ridiculously high voice. "It's not going anywhere."

"Shut it," She laughed, clamping a hand over his mouth. "You're making a scene."

He only laughed harder, peeling her fingers away. "You're the queen of making scenes."

Vigil bit her lip against her own smile. "Whatever. But you must show me at least one of your songs, and promise me you'll try to find a job here. They deserve the best."

"I will, as long as you promise to lend me one of your poems." He said.

She held out a hand. "Deal."

The music ended with one last, resonating echo, and the two dancers pulled apart. Vigil brushed a lock behind her ear, her hair already in its uncontrolled tangle of curls. She looked up, and met James' eyes, staring at her contentedly. She could feel her face heating, and she glanced back at the ground. She could play confident for only so long, before she became that same broken girl, inexperienced and scared of the world.

The band started up again. The music was carefree, jovial, every musician and every instrument working together into one masterpiece. Vigil took James' hand, and he swung her out into the crowd of dancers. She spun back, right into his arm, then parted again, until she was dizzy with giddiness. They tapped their feet to the beat, snapped their fingers to the melody.

And when the voices came back, they had no control over her.