Georges Melies did not care for Hugo Cabaret, and he definitely did not care about him. But still, he couldn't help but notice how tired the boy looked today. He sat in the back of the shop, fixing the small toys and trinkets at a much slower pace then was normal.

"Boy" Georges called to him. Hugo looked up, slight bags framed his eyes, making him look as though he had missed several nights sleep. He coughed, and Georges realized that he didn't have a legitimate reason to have spoken. Inwardly, he knew that he had just wanted to see the boys face, but no. He didn't care about him.

"Why are you working so slowly? You should be able to finish that in half the time you're taking," He'd made this up on the spot, although once he thought about it a bit, he honestly did want to know.

Hugo looked down at his feet, "Sorry, my other job has been taking longer than usual."

The boy seemed slightly ashamed at this fact, and Georges wondered what could be so important about his thievery, but still he scoffed

"Thievery is nothing to be proud of boy, what do I care if you can't hurry it up and get some sleep"

Hugo looked defiant, "I told you, I have a different job. It's just been taking longer than it should."

"Well try to get some sleep tonight, you'll never get your notebook back at this rate"

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Hugo did not run from the toy shop back to the hole in the wall as he normally would have. He walked slowly, wincing as each step jarred his pounding head a little more. He glanced back at the toy seller, who was looking at him oddly. Hugo quickly stopped wincing, and painstakingly held his composure until he was out of sight.

When he arrived at his apartment in the walls Hugo immediately collapsed onto the bed shivering. Heat radiated from his face and body, yet he felt no warmth. The entire room spun around him at a dizzying speed escalating the pain in his head to a level that nearly made him scream. He shut his eyes tight and let out a low moan that quickly turned in to a coughing fit. Air was catching in his throat, making it impossible to take a breath. He wrapped his arms around his middle, forcing air into his lungs and trying desperately not to cry.

"Oh no," he croaked aloud, once he could breath "I can't be sick."

But he knew he was.

He wrapped the thin bed sheet around himself, and trying to find one spot in the frigid room that that had a bit of heat. He finally settled down on the bed again, placing his aching head on the frozen pillow and attempted to get a bit of sleep before he had to get up an check the clocks.

Each tick of the small watch hanging by his bedside increased the pain in his skull until Hugo felt it might burst. Finally his head hurt so badly, that his well contained tears burst forth, creating hot wet lines down his even hotter face.

This was going to be a long night.

****************************************BREAKLINE***************************************************

While Hugo was shivering in his bed, Georges walked briskly home. For some reason, he couldn't get the boy out of his head. That day, Hugo had repaired or built only five toys during all the hours he'd been there. Usually, the boy could have done twice that much in half the time. It didn't make sense. Gorges shook his head in disgust. What was he doing thinking about the thief? It didn't matter, the boy was obviously getting on well enough with his "jobs".

Nevertheless, a new question arose in Georges' mind. Where did the boy live? It seemed as if he never left the station, but where could he stay where he wouldn't be found by the station inspector? These questions were drifting about Gorges' mind when he walked into his house.

His wife greeted him at the door.

"How was work?" She asked

"Fine fine" he answered vaguely, still wondering internally about where Hugo resided.

But she would have none of that. "Georges, I can see that you are distracted, what is wrong? Did something happen at work?.

Georges sighed, "It is the thief, Hugo. He seemed ill. He is only a boy, and I can't help but wonder where he lives."

"How did he seem ill, maybe he was simply tired?"

"That's what he claimed, but I'm not sure, he was very pale and his work took much longer than it usually does."

Jeanne smiled, "You are not worried about him are you Georges?"

Georges scoffed, "Me? No. I simply want him to work faster. My shop has been getting good business of late. I need to keep up."

"Of course Georges, whatever you say." Jeanne said playfully as she swept from the room.