The remainder of Murina's afternoon in the Norwich house was a tour of the building itself, having asked to get a look around. Although not the horrorshow she had been afraid of, Muri still found herself amazed that twenty rats had been living in these conditions for, according to Alfie, several years. It wasn't just the rickety staircase or the peeling paint on the walls, cosmetic deficiencies would be easy to overlook so long as everything worked, but that wasn't the case. The bathroom sink didn't work at all, and as Phillip had said earlier, the water heater wasn't functioning well, which forced the family to share the bath while there was hot water available. Privacy was nonexistent, as the upstairs rooms had no doors. Lights flickered, the refrigerator was warm, it was all a house that functioned well enough for the family to get by, but only just.

The old adage rang true in the beaten old row house, that normal is what you know, and the family Norwich appeared almost content with their lot. This was more true for the younger pups, who hadn't known the Alley back in what could loosely be called its glory days, before the Rat Resistance movement had dug its claws in so firmly. It was true that the Biters dated back to the 1970s, and the Alley had long been on the road toward isolation, but it wasn't until the death of Alphonse III that its devolution picked up speed and left the rats in their self-made ghetto. Charlotte in particular had an air of sad resignation to her, having watched her home crumble while her family grew.

While the youngest played out in the street, Murina asked Charlotte what life had been like before the Biters. The middle-aged Norwich chuckled quietly.

"Y' might not believe this, but there's a time when we didn't live in Rat Alley."

Murina's attention perked. "You didn't? But... didn't your husband's family..."

Charlotte snorted in dry non-amusement. "We've always been in 'ese houses, but used t' be 'is was all just Toxteth. When they'd ask where I's from, that's what I'd tell 'em!"

"Was it more... integrated?" Murina asked.

Lighting a cigarette that she had clearly rolled herself, Charlotte shook her head. "This 'ere's always been rats, goin' back further than there were houses on these streets. Before there were streets, even. But when I was a pup, it was just where th' rats lived. There was us rats over 'ere, an' the rest over 'ere, an' nobody caused nobody no problems. Round the edges there's some brushin' togetha, wasn't like my Alphonse's shop was stranger to th' cats an' dogs from 'round Toxteth, but that was all. We rats 'ave our roots here, goin' back generations. My nan used t' show us ol' photos."

Exhaling, a large wisp of smoke escaping her nostrils, Charlotte continued. "But it was still Toxteth. Y' could walk from one end to th' other and not see a change 'side from who was sittin' on the front steps. They didn't start callin' it Rat Alley 'til all th' houses started fallin' apart an' the Biter Boys got a name f' themselves. Mind you, that name wasn't our idea. That's just what the papers'd say, an' it caught on. An' 'ere we are. Even 'fore y' see th' rats... y' know yer in the Alley." She dropped the cigarette's stub onto the pavement, letting it smoulder.

Murina looked out at the pups playing, none of them knowing that their hometown wasn't like all the others, that life in the Alley wasn't how life was everywhere. Her later research filled in some of the gaps in Charlotte's story. In the early days of Toxteth, a long time ago, the rats had used what was then a much larger park as camping grounds, closer to a gypsy community than a real "city". Then, like now, residency in the Alley was fluid, rats coming and going regularly and often drifting into the surrounding areas, while still calling the park their "home". During the late 18th and early 19th centuries, the government was urbanizing several areas of the country including the Toxteth park, essentially forcing the rats to either move into the public housing or relocate.

The claim was that the houses were a public service, offering the rats a solid roof over their heads and public utilities, but the primary motivation was to put all the rats somewhere where they could be kept track of, and contained. But for all its unsavory intentions, the housing project wasn't a bad deal for the Toxteth rats. Additionally, the sudden leap forward into modernity brought the rats out of their trade-or-steal lifestyle. The housing was public, but not free, and that meant the residents needed to earn an actual income. Thus, in 1833, Alphonse IV's several-times-great grandfather Nigel Norwich opened up a corner shop, the first rat-owned business in the area, beginning a legacy that lasted more than a century and a half.

While it was true that the edge of the rats' new neighborhood was more diverse, the population never integrated further inward, thanks to the deep roots set by generations of rats making camp in that old park. They were distrusting of outsiders who attempted to settle down on what they still considered their territory, and although the locals were rarely openly hostile toward non-rats who came in, it wasn't common for members of other species to stay especially long. Those who did generally remained closer to the outer border, and their presence was tolerated, although not fully accepted. Residents argued that they didn't dislike other species, just that they didn't like them living on the rats' turf.

The early generations of urban rats were suspicious of the housing situation they'd been given. They had a place to live and running water, but there were shadows of concern that it was all an elaborate ruse to force the rats out of Toxteth entirely, ironically the opposite of the truth. As the rats who'd been there for the construction of the houses died off, their descendents were more amiable toward the non-rats socially, but were no less averse to them moving in any further than the perimeter. On occasion, rats would even squat in open houses whenever a non-rat came into town to make it seem as though it were completely full. As time went on, complaints began to pour in to the local authorities and governments about the Toxteth rats bullying outsiders away. Their solution was simple: if the rats were going to be "ungrateful" about what they'd been given, then whenever it came time for budgets to be cut, money would come away from the Toxteth park housing first.

By the mid-20th century, conditions were beginning to worsen. While the government slashed funding to the housing projects, further in the "nest" (as it was colloquially known then) a movement was growing. There had always been pockets of rats throughout Europe who took the black plague as the moment of their species' greatest victory, but the deterioriating public housing in Toxteth proved a perfect storm to give the "Rat Resistance" a foothold it hadn't had earlier. Thus came about the Biter Boys, and the now-famous story brought to light in the Rozich article that first exposed the Toxteth slum to the world.

It was a history Charlotte was likely only partly aware of, having been told the rats' side by her elders, and one that her own pups were almost certainly ignorant of. By now, all the family was concerned with was making it from day to day, not what caused them to be where they were. Of course, this also meant that upcoming generations were laying their blame on the outside world, strengthening the Biters' resolve and widening the chasm between the species. Murina pitied them nearly as much as she condemned their actions, wondering just what it would take to bring the Alley out of the pit it had dug for itself.

A call from inside the house signalled that dinner was ready, and the family quickly piled back in. Murina followed behind, still unsure just what in the world a "pibbie" was and why it had the younger Norwiches, and even a few of the older ones, so excited. Her nose twitched at the air, picking up the scent coming out of the kitchen. It was perplexing, to say the least, like a cookout with something sweet mixed in. She watched as the pups swarmed around her to get to Olivia, and thus their share, first. Alfie emerged with a plate, as well as a beer in his hand, grinning ear to ear.

"Muri, m' dear, I present t' you... pibbies," he said with a flourish.

She took the plate, thanking Alphonse, and looked curiously at the food she'd been given. The pibbies, it turned out, were... hot dogs with peanut butter on them. White bread buns, lightly buttered and fried, with stove-top grilled franks and a layer of peanut butter down the center where they'd been slit open. It was clear Olivia had done more than throwing the links in the microwave, although that was likely in part thanks to the family not having a microwave at all, but in the end they were still hot dogs with peanut butter. The kind of meal that might show up in an elementary school lunch line on a Friday when all the other supplies had run out. Yet, the Norwich rats were positively elated, devouring the "pibbies" so fast they nearly lost fingers, as though their meal was straight out of the high-class restaurant Murina had taken Alfie to weeks ago.

Murina stood there a moment, sniffing at her dinner. Her appetite wasn't especially whetted by the smell of it, but she was hungry, and didn't want to seem rude to her hosts. So, with some trepidation, Murina took a bite of her pibbie.

His own muzzle stuffed with nearly the entire dog, Alfie nodded toward 'er. "What y' think, eh?" he asked, although it was even more difficult than usual to make out the words.

"It's... lovely, thank you," Murina replied, doing her best to sound genuine. As soon as Alfie went to get another beer, she quickly passed her dinner off to Stephan, who'd been eyeballing her since she got her plate. She brushed her hands off and flashed a bright smile to Alfie as he returned.

"Finished up already? Fuck me, yer a right Alley rat, luv!" he said with a laugh.

Murina did her best to act modest. "Well, my compliments to the chef."

Alfie nodded, taking a swig of beer. "Y'want anotha? Think Liv could whip one up for y' qui-"

"NO! I mean, no thank you, Alfie."

Alphonse shrugged and sat down heavily, nearly knocking over a few of his younger siblings who had been there previously. For the first time, there was a semblance of quiet in the house while the family ate. What few rumblings there were came mostly when one of the rats finished before another and tried to steal a bite from a nearby plate. Just like before, Natalie appointed herself referee of most of the arguments, even when they were between older siblings.

"So, Alfie," Murina began, feeling it a good time to get down to business. "I was hoping we might get a moment to discuss some of the things you'll need to do in the upcoming months to prepare."

"Prepare?"

She nodded. "Yes, prepare. The drafting process is more than just waiting to get a phone call."

Alphonse snorted and finished his beer, handing the bottle to Simon and instructing him to get another, while the others carried their empty plates into the kitchen. "Ain't that your job, Muri?"

Chuckling softly, the American rat bobbed her head side to side in half-agreement. "I'll be doing the majority of the phone calls and paperwork, but while I'm doing that, you need to be ready to..."

Alfie interrupted her, springing to his feet. "Oi! 'at reminds me. Almost time f' the party."

"...party?" Murina asked. It sounded like the exact opposite of what she was talking about.

He grinned, snagging the beer that Simon had brought him and nodding for her to stand up. "Din' I tell you? Had a quick jab wi' my mates after y' left last night. They din' realize just who you were. Figured we'd all give y' a proper Alley welcome."

A voice called out from the kitchen. "Alfie, you aren't draggin' poor Muri out to th' park for a street party..."

"Liiiiv, it's just a gatherin' o' friends and loved ones, bit o' music an' some frivolty," Alphonse responded, doing his best to sound pure and innocent.

Olivia looked out at him. "Oh izzat all? An' here I thought you an' a wallop o' your mates would be out drinkin' an' fightin' until sun-up."

Alphonse sniffed, attempting to look indignant. "Olivia. I am insulted. 'ow dare you impugn my good character," he said, turning on his heel. "Murina, shall we?"

The black rat snickered at the little exchange and stood up, following her client to the door and out into the street. There would be time for sitting and talking over the finer points of basketball contracts later, right now Murina had an opportunity in front of her to see the Alley Rats up close, and possibly at their most unrestrained. Subconsciously, she began to walk more closely to Alfie. Though in normal circumstances she felt less than secure around him, he was the devil she knew, and for all the headaches he'd given her, she never felt in danger from him.

The sun was still out, although it was on its way down toward the horizon, the rays giving the whole Alley a reddish glow. If she were anywhere else, the sight might have felt tranquil. There was an odd serenity to the unbroken line of Alley houses extending in front of her, the handful of trees sprinkled about in what could generously be called their front lawns. All throughout, however, there were hints as to what crawled just beneath the surface. Just as Murina was building up a smile at the image of a tree with a tire swing dangling from its thickest branch, the sight of a blood stain on the nearby curb reminded her just where she was, sending a shiver down to her tailtip.

For the second time in as many days, Murina found herself led toward the Hughes Park, although the sight was clearly different this time around. Instead of being mostly bare while a small handful of rats played a game on the court, there were rats gathered all over. The number was so high Murina was surprised that the Alley housed so many, but if twenty could live in a house, and the Alley clearly had nearly two hundred homes within its borders, it was a greater chance that the group assembled was a small fraction of the total. The closer they got the stronger the smell of smoke and beer, not to mention unwashed rat, became. For the first time in a while Muri was reminded of the hygiene, or lack thereof, that typified the Alley.

By the time they reached the basketball court, it seemed as if the rats out of the Norwich house were late to the party. There were radios set up to blare punk rock, coolers everywhere full of beer bottles, tables of food set up and plenty of rats to take in all of it. Just as Alfie had said, there were oodles of rats eager to shake his hand and clap him on the back, congratulating him for his big chance at the big time. Not that Muri was ignored in all of it.

"Oi! You th' one takin' our mate overseas??" a heavily drunk rat stumbled up, asking.

"Yeh! She's makin' 'im into some big star!" another chimed in.

Murina did her best to maintain modesty and remind the others that Alphonse wasn't actually in the league yet, but it was all drowned out by the inebriated British slurring speech, each congratulating both their hometown hero and the American who'd made it all possible.

Mingling through the crowd, Murina still felt faintly uneasy. Although by now the attention toward her was less as a distrusted outsider and more of a welcomed friend of Alfie's, it was all still so conditional. She wasn't embraced by the community on her own, but only through what the others were convinced she had already done for Alfie. Her popularity rested solely in that misunderstanding, and for the first time she understood what Richter Rozich had meant by being one wrong word away from the business end of a boot. As bright as the Alley rats' smiles were, she could see in their eyes how quickly they could switch to snarls.

"Oi!" came a snort of a call from a rat. A female this time. She was shorter, almost eye level with Murina, her vest askew and a beer bottle in her hand. More than anything, she looked unhappy with the American black rat.

"Excuse me?" Murina asked, confused.

"Is you th' slappa stealin' my Alfie??" she asked, through her eyes looked only barely capable of focusing on her target.

Murina wasn't quite sure if she should be insulted or not. "Um... I'm Alphonse's agent, yes, but as for STEALING him..."

The tall rat in question stepped in between them, making some space. "Er, 'ang on 'ere." He turned toward the accusing rat. "Gwen, th' fuck d' you think you're doin'?"

She spat at him. "Whuzzis, eh? Y' get me wit' a litta and then run off t' some Yankee tart??" Alfie was in the midst of mounting a defense when the rat stormed around him and pointed her finger directly in Murina's face, the sharp claw inches from her nose. "If I see you near my Alfie again..." she slurred.

Murina's brow furrowed. "Your... litter?"

Gwen snorted. "Don't act like you don't know! Alfie 'ere is MINE, he put 'is pups in ME, an' you back off!!" she asserted, trying to wrap an arm around the obviously uncomfortable looking Alley rat.

Both hands up in front of her, Murina shook her head. "Look, miss. I don't know what you think is going on, but I assure you, Alphonse and I are just pr-"

The crack of the Alley girl's palm across Murina's face echoed immediately, causing the black rat to recoil and put a hand over her cheek in shock. Just as quickly, Alfie scooped Gwen up and threw her over his shoulders, hauling her away from the crowd, who let out an audible sound of disappointment that they wouldn't be witnessing a fight. Across the basketball court, Alfie was giving Gwen a stern talking to, angrily pointing and yelling at the girl rat, who looked to be nearly in tears from it.

One of the rats near Muri snickered, which caught her attention. She leaned toward him, though her eyes were still on Alfie and Gwen. "Was she... serious?"

"Eh? Abou' what?"

"Well, she said Alfie put his... pups in her."

The scraggly rat, a lanky fellow with his head shaved nearly to the skin, exposing a few tattoos on his skull, croaked out a laugh that a few of the others nearby joined in on. "Cause he prolly did!"

Murina was confused. "But... he never mentioned having any... offspring here."

Another rat snickered, taking a long draw from his beer bottle and throwing it over his shoulder without a second thought. "Well who's t' say they his, eh? Prolly got a line 'round the park could lay claim to 'em!" He laughed that much more, then noticed Murina's sour expression. "Ohhhh, what, eh? Y' sayin' ova the pond y' KNOW who seeded ye? Fat chance o' that out 'ere!!" The whole bunch joined in the laughter, which prompted Murina to ignore them for the moment and look back toward her client and Gwen. The rat girl had her paw on the hem of his vest, pleading with him to wait, but a slap to her wrist and Alfie stormed away, shaking his head in frustration and grabbing a beer out of a nearby cooler.

Before Murina could make a peep, one of the bunch grinned at him. "Set 'er right, eh?"

Alfie laughed dryly, raising his beer to his friend. "Honest n' true, like 'ese slags just wanna 'old a Biter down!" he bellowed, slugging his drink with the others in a big toast.

Murina was aghast. "But... are they yours? The pups?"

Alphonse grinned broadly. "Fuck should I know? Ain't like I'm 'er only beau, eh?"

The gangly rat spoke up again. "An 'ow many would 'at make f' you, eh, Alfie? Gotta be fifty?"

He shrugged, taking a drink from his bottle. "Sounds 'bout right! 'ard to keep track, ain't it mates?" The whole group burst out in fresh laughter. All except for Murina, who stood gaping at how casually the topic was for men of the Alley.

Another rat, one nearly on eye level with Alfie and absolutely covered in self-done tattoos, slung his arm around Alphonse's shoulders and pointed toward Murina. "Heh, you betta 'OPE they 'is!"

Nose wrinkled in distaste, Murina asked, "And why would that be?"

The ink-coated Alley rat laughed, "Cos 'en you lot get more like 'im for y' little bouncy ball game! Watcha say, Alfie? Gonna send y' pups off t' play when 'ey get old enough?"

Alphonse rolled his eyes at the other, still grinning ear to ear. "Oh pull it, Dom! Least wait 'til I get in m'self!"

Dominick snorted and shook his head. "Lookit our Alfie, so fuckin' modest!" He turned his attention to Murina. "Y' know when we was just in secondary 'e got a startin' spot ova some Year 11 tossa, remember 'im Alfie?"

Alphonse elbowed Dom playfully. "'ow could I forget! 'at fuckin' 'edgehog said if I didn't back off 'e'd beat me wit me own tail!"

Dominick looked as though he were about to laugh so hard he'd lose his balance. "An' 'at stupid fucking pinny comes waltzin' in th' Alley askin' where 'e can find Alfie! Like 'e got a whole army wit' him!"

Murina's brow furrowed. "What happened?" she asked, concerned. It was a question she knew she'd get the answer to, but wasn't sure she wanted it.

Alfie grinned. "Well we 'ad us a li'l jaw, came to a deal, an' I sent 'im off back 'ome!"

The story's ending felt rather anticlimactic, until Dominick told the punchline. "Sent 'im 'ome wit'out 'is quills!!" he blurted out, to raucous laughter from the rest. Alfie joined them, shoving Dominick off of him and nearly bowling the drunken rodent over.

"Well 'e shoulda known better!" Alfie said, looking far prouder than Murina liked. "Nonnie tit dancin' in our Alley, 'e had t' get a lesson taught!"

What little ease there was in her stance quickly left Muri as the conversation grew darker. A shorter rat with a mess of spiked hair and a few rings in his face tossed Alfie another beer to replace the one he had just finished, nodding toward Murina. "An' our Alfie's a fuckin' pro teacha!" He looked back to Alphonse. "Honest Alfie, 'ow'd you 'andle it in the States?"

The muscled rat shook his head, grunting. "I wouldn't o' believed it if I 'adn't seen it m'self. Everywhere I looked was beakas, squeakas, cockdraggas an' slangas. I 'ad a fuckin' bandie in me 'otel room! If I 'adn't set 'er right she prolly woulda been rootin' through me things the second I walked out."

The group sneered collectively, grumbling their disapproval at Alphonse's "plight" during his American trip. One of them spoke up. "Do 'ey at least respect us rats?"

Alphonse barked out a laugh. "Hardly! First day, Muri 'ere takes us out to a nice restaurant, an' th' owner, this bloody bushknob, tries cheatin' me outta my meal!"

Immediately the conversation devolved into the bunch of haggard rats discussing what THEY would have done to the squirrel who had "cheated" Alphonse back in Boston. Worst of all, several of them referred to previous acts, describing in disturbing detail what had happened to several non-rats who had wandered too far into the Alley and "disrespected" the Biters. None said outright that they had done anything themselves, with a clear eye on Murina as the reason they were feebly distancing themselves from blatant admission, but there was no question when they were talking about themselves. Compared to the dry reports Murina had read in the newspaper archives, their depictions were far more grisly, relishing in the actions of shattering muzzles or breaking knees. It was hard to tell how much was honest and how much was exaggerated, but even if the stories weren't wholly true, that they found the subjects so amusing was bad enough.

The topic drifted to the weekly game on the court, with Alphonse dryly noting, "Leastways when I got back you lot 'adn't lost th' park!"

"Came close, y' dodgy cunt! We 'ad t' put Musty in at th' end!"

Alphonse could hardly believe what he'd heard. "Musty?? That dumb bastard couldn't get a ball in th' net if he 'ad a map! What'd he do, stink 'em to death?"

The others laid out the scene. Without Alfie on the court, the rats had struggled to stay ahead of their neighboring team, and had been in danger of losing. Musty, it turned out, was a rat known even amongst the Biters for being dirty and a little unbalanced. He didn't have a house of his own, preferring to wander the Alley and stop and sleep wherever he drunkenly passed out. They brought him on the court after one of their teammates had twisted his ankle and they were in danger of forfeiting, snagging the filthy rat off the bleachers, where he'd been watching with several of the other locals. As Alphonse said, he didn't know how to play, but he filled the fifth slot and the others managed to keep the game going.

"So Musty's tilted out his ears, didn't even know where 'e was..." one began.

"...an' this big ol' spitten comes up, like 'e's gonna dunk over 'is head," another continued. "But 'en... 'arvey, finish it, I can't!" he said, laughing.

Harvey, another athletic rat but one significantly shorter than Alphonse, finished for his friend. "Ol' Musty grabs 'im, an' th' cat's tryin' t' push 'im off, an' Musty pukes right on 'is shirt!!"

Another round of laughter rang out from the rats, Alfie right with them. "Wait wait, 'e chucked it right on 'im?"

"RIGHT on 'im! They all got their pants in a twist an' acted like they's gonna stomp 'is head in, but 'en they remembered where they was!" Harvey snickered and finished his beer off, setting his can on the ground and flattening it beneath his boot, as if illustrating what would have happened to them if they'd tried. "Afta that, was like 'ey didn't have they hearts in th' game!"

"Well fuck 'en, t' Musty an' 'is wonderful chunda!"

The group toasted, then asked Alphonse about playing ball in America. He was quick to gloss over the more embarrassing moments of the story, focusing instead on his personal performance, knocking the Boston students over and his scoring. He was an animated storyteller, acting out the parts and giving voices to the others. Murina couldn't help but let out a light chuckle at the scene, Alfie regaling his friends with the tale, each of them hanging on his every word.

One piped up. "That's our Alfie! Bet you's crackin' nonnies every day over 'ere, eh?"

The big rat grinned broadly, soaking up the praise. Murina cut in. "Excuse me, there were NO nonn... non-rats 'cracked' or otherwise hurt during his stay in Boston!" she insisted. It wasn't something she could say with complete confidence, after all she hadn't been watching him every moment of the visit, but she had kept an extra close eye on the news and the papers in the days following to see if there were any assaults reported that might have been her client's doing.

The crew around him chortled, with Alphonse himself looking a touch annoyed at his agent speaking up for him. Another rat, thin but with a clear wiry strength to him and a Fucking Rat Bastards tee on, approached the group, grinning broadly. "Izzat right? Did y' keep 'im on a tight leash? Made sure 'e didn't shit in th' house?" he asked Murina.

Alphonse huffed. "Aw, fuck off, Angus! I ain't gonna be able t' show 'at nonnie pot who's boss if I can't get in the door, now am I?"

The other rat seemed less than convinced. "Oh, o' course!" he snickered, sounding less than genuinely amused. "Just 'ope once y' get in y' don't forget where y' came from..." The words came out slowly, angrily, and he finished by spitting a mouthful of beer at the ground at Alfie's feet, soaking his boots.

The instant switch in Alphonse's demeanor was a sight to behold. Before Angus or any of the others could react, he had taken the other rat by the shirt and thrown him onto a nearby table, leaping on top of him and ready to beat him senseless. Fortunately, the furious rat's friends leapt in and pulled him away before he could do any damage. It took a half dozen of them to pull him off, the rat's thick muscles flexing as hard as they could manage, struggling to get free. Murina let out a squeak of surprise, horrified at the outburst. It was beyond anything she'd seen of him in Boston, and against one of his own kind.

Finally calmed again, Alphonse took a beer straight out of one of his friend's paws, taking a long drink of it and shaking his head. Murina watched him warily.

"Are... are you okay?" she asked.

There was a pause as Alfie stared daggers at Angus, who was being pulled away by a few others, putting up considerably less of a fight to continue the face-off. Alphonse Norwich IV stood, chest nearly heaving, jaw clenched, before shaking his head and turning to Murina. "Don't worry 'bout 'im. Just an ol' friend who forgot what 'at word meant. C'mon, it's a party, eh? 'ave a drink."

Murina let herself have a beer, though she'd earlier vowed not to. With the evening she was having, she needed it. The street party had taught her far more about the Alley than she'd wanted to know, letting her in on a side of its residents that it seemed even Richter hadn't seen. On the surface, the rats celebrated their poor conditions, at times sounding as though they were competing to see whose home was falling apart the most. Despite the joking, they all had a tone of resignation to their voices, that as long as their lives were fated to be a struggle they might as well stare it in the face and laugh at it. Several dropped hints that they hoped Alphonse's FBA career would channel money back into the Alley.

The sun was setting, and the party was in full gear, with music playing on a stereo system Phillip had hooked together and the rats getting more drunken and rowdy. For all the faults of the Alley, there was an undeniable sense of community to them. Back in Boston, there was no such thing as a party where an entire neighborhood would empty out into the street to join. Murina barely knew who her neighbors were aside from crossing paths once in a blue moon, yet the Alley rats all knew each other's names and had stories that they could share. She wasn't willing to trade the modernity of urban life for the squalor of Toxteth for it, but there was an undeniable charm to an entire subset of a town that seemed to operate as one.

Alfie, meanwhile, was soaking up every moment possible, and even did his best to keep Murina included. She began to understand what Richter had meant about the Biters being disarmingly friendly. They told stories about pregnant girlfriends left behind and beating "nonnies" within an inch of their lives, but amongst their own they were generous, helpful, and protective.

Then, the band took the stage. Murina had read about the Alley concerts, but seeing it in person was enlightening, to say the least. She watched, jaw slack, as rats slammed into one another, punching and kicking, stomp-marching about and flinging elbows with no concern for who got hit. The wet slaps of flesh to flesh echoed across the now-filled basketball court, rats left with split lips and bloodied noses but looking like they were enjoying every moment of it. Above the fray Murina could see Alphonse's signature blue mohawk, and each dull thud or smack made her whole body tense up with the fear of his career ending before it began. Daniel Quvianuq had at least been drafted before his season-killing injury; a crippled rat would never get a contract.

A lull in the music sent Alfie back out of the melee to get a drink, his fur matted down and reddened in spots. Murina immediately began to inspect him, checking him for injuries like an overprotective mother.

"Th' fuck you doin', Muri??" Alphonse slurred, awkwardly dodging the examination.

Murina huffed at him, speaking forcefully but not yelling. "What am I doing?? What are YOU doing?? How am I going to get you drafted if you break your legs at a concert??"

Alphonse coughed out a laugh, the stink of many, many beers souring the air. "Aw, you worry too much! Ain't nobody in 'ere gonna take out ol' Alfie! You gotta learn 'ow t' relax!" He slumped a heavy arm around her shoulders. "C'mon up, drink up! Party ain't even started!"

Murina's head was pounding, the night proving far too taxing, and she realized there was no reasoning with the stubborn, drunk rat. She shook her head. "Actually, I think I'm going to turn in for the night. You have fun, Alfie." Then, shrugging her way out from under Alfie's arm, she began her walk back to the Norwich house.

The big Alley rat watched her go, letting out a grunt. One of his friends came up behind him and clapped him on the back. "Oi, s'got yer tail all curled, eh? She shoot y' down f'r a tumble?"

Alphonse laughed. "Shoot me down? Think y' forgot jus' who you're talkin' to, mate! Now quit ya jabbin', th' Bastards is startin' an' Terry said 'ey got a new song f'r us!"

Murina walked swiftly through the Alley toward the Norwich house, hoping she remembered her way. With the sun down, she felt far less comfortable walking alone. Fortunately, her sense of direction got her back, only to be reminded that the Norwiches kept their doors locked at all times. She was exhausted, her nerves were shot, and now she couldn't get inside without banging on the door and waking up the residents. So Murina Beaubonique turned and sat on the stoop, cradling her head in her hands and thinking over just what she was doing. She could hear Harris already, telling her she never should have even entertained the idea of getting Alphonse signed. He was an Alley rat through and through, what did she think was going to happen?

"Oi!!" a voice called out, catching Murina's attention. Her head snapped up, squinting through the darkness at its source.

"Phillip?"

"What you doin' out 'ere?" he said, jogging up and quickly helping Murina to her feet. "Can't be sittin' by y'self in the dark like 'at!"

Muri groaned, vaguely gesturing. "The door was locked, and the lights were off, I didn't want to..."

Phillip cut her off by pounding on the door. "Open th' fuckin' up!" he barked. A moment later, the thumps of a rat coming down the stairs sounded, followed by the door opening up by a tired looking Natalie. As soon as she did, the young rat headed back up to bed, this clearly being a common ritual. Murina realized that neither Phillip nor Alphonse had a key, and wondered if there even was one.

"Er... ain't much bed space upstairs, but I s'pose y' can take a couch."

Murina nodded, just glad to be indoors with something soft to lie down on. "That's fine, thank you."

As Phillip went upstairs, Murina dropped heavily on the legless couch. She felt weighed down by the scene she had witnessed, and it was almost too much for the American rat. So much of her time and money spent, fighting tooth and claw to craft an image of Alphonse as a draftable player, willing to make the sacrifice to play on a professional level. Yet there he was, drinking and fighting out in the park, without a single thought for tomorrow. All of that work to get him out of the Alley, and yet he showed no desire to escape its clutches. She cursed herself for being so naive, beginning to wish she'd just gone past that Rozich article, and that she'd remembered a spare bottle of aspirin.

A small shuffling sound caught her ears, and Murina's eyes opened back up. She looked around the room a moment, before spying a young rat standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching her.

"...Colin?" she asked. "What are you doing up?"

He didn't answer, just silently making his way over to the couch. He paused there, his large, curious eyes on Murina. Then, the young Norwich rat climbed up onto the couch beside her, nestled his way under her arm, and slowly dozed off.

Murina sat, looking at the sleeping Colin. She was reminded of the day before when his older brother had held him in nearly the same position, listening to his whispers and telling the story of standing up to his bullies. Tonight Alfie was out there in mosh pits and chugging beer, but he was also out practicing every morning and promising his family he would provide for them when he made it big. Murina tightened her arm around the young rat, feeling his chest rise and fall as he slept. He was so fragile, as though if she squeezed too tightly he might break. And yet, that burly rat back at the park, who'd nearly broken someone through a table for spitting on his boots, was who he turned to when he felt scared. There seemed to be two Alphonses, the one inside the house, and the one outside it. Murina prayed that she could take the former back to America and leave the latter behind.

"Goodnight, Colin," Murina whispered, taking off her glasses and putting them on the armrest of the couch. She had one more day in the Alley ahead of her, and hoped there were no more surprises in it. Turning to lay out on the cushions without disturbing her couchmate, Murina drifted off to sleep.