[Jake was real sure wishing didn't fix nothing. Wishes were for birthday candles when you were small enough to believe that something came when you blew em all out in one go, even when nothing came over and over each time you did. He wasn't a little kid and he didn't need wishes and he didn't need a father any, not now. He needed one when he was small enough for birthday candles and wishes but he was all grown.
Jake loped out of the Gotham door with an uncomfortable sort of sidle. He hadn't left it once since he'd fallen into it the first time and thought he'd found a tiny bit of God again in the soft mellow music and the space without ugliness that was Aunt Clem's home. He looked less rangy, and a little more filled out in the face, because he'd done more eating and more sleeping than in the passel of months before, but he was still sharp cheekbones and hair in a messy sweep over his forehead.
Valentine's Day was marked on the calendar, just because he wasn't real sure any of the men at Clem's work would go on and remember and he thought she was the kind of woman who wanted that wooing. Jake wasn't wooing nobody, but he could remember February fourteenth just fine and he liked the clean, soft, sweet smell of Clem's place and the melody of her voice and he figured buying flowers for a woman even if she was just your aunt wasn't sissy.
He looked for Graham, denim and a baggy plaid shirt of his own rolled at the sleeves. There was a streak of paint on his wrist bone that he hadn't wiped completely away and a look that was all hunted anticipation in his eyes.]