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Post by Administrator on Jun 22, 2008 16:55:45 GMT -5
An old fountain that barely runs anymore.
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Post by mabel on Aug 3, 2008 23:06:49 GMT -5
<NEW DAY>
Escaping the musky heat of the Lodging House had been Mabel's main objective in taking a stroll and said stroll had led her here--to a much neglected fountain. Collapsing with a huff on the stone rim, Mabel let her head loll back in an attempt to rid herself of a very painful crick. Those lumpy cots had not been kind to her.
Stiff and sore, Mabel had done nothing but wander aimlessly that afternoon--something she'd been doing a lot since the price hike. Things were quiet around the lodging house, like the calm before the storm. Now all she could do was wait with baited breath for it all to go to hell.
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Post by bottlecap on Aug 4, 2008 1:08:04 GMT -5
More than anything, Maeby hated the way her long mess of hair liked to stick to her arms and neck when it was hot outside. It made her feel dirty and hot, but worse than how she felt about it, the stickiness made it hard to work. Sweeping it over a shoulder haphazardly, she weaved patiently through the crowds that wandered about Central Park.
Dusk kicked up about the hem of her skirts as she moved, her nimble hand dipping and diving where permissible and dropping her earnings into the tattered bag at her side. Her gray-blue gaze never faltered; never once flickered in fear as she kept it ahead of herself like any normal person on a leisurely stroll. It had taken years of practice, dozens of nights in the refuge and a lot of lecturing from her brother to get as good at this as she was.
Coming to the fountain, Maeby slowed her gait and finally came to a halt at its side. It was too hot to pass it by without a pause. She stooped to fill a hand with water, splashing it on her face before realizing that she wasn't necessarily on her own anymore.
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Post by mabel on Aug 4, 2008 1:29:56 GMT -5
Mabel, vainly attempting to rid her neck of its current soreness, was more than a little surprised to see a girl approach the fountain. She didn't recognize her, but that was not all that unusual. Hell, she could be a Manhattan Newsie one bunk over from her own and Mabel still might have not recognized her.
Seeing her splash the water on her face, Mabel grimaced. "I wouldn't-" She paused. "I mean, I'm not sure that's the cleanest water." Mabel was more germaphobic than the average kid roughing it on the street, but having a privileged upbringing played a significant role in it. She'd never get used to the bodily-fluid exchange handshake the newsies so delighted in...
Coming to the realization that she was yet again contributed her opinion to a situation that did not warrant it, Mabel turned away, distracting herself with a loose thread on her skirt.
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Post by bottlecap on Aug 4, 2008 1:46:14 GMT -5
Maeby looked over with a quirked brow when the girl addressed her, at which point she paused. Now, it WAS a thing for Maeby Murphy not to recognize a face, because though she was a lifer in Brooklyn, she made her rounds everywhere when times were slow. The very fact that the girl was warning her about the cleanliness of the fountain water red-flagged her as something of a newcomer.
"Well, ain't the dirtiest, either." She returned with a bit of a smirk, because she wasn't having herselfa bath in the fountain. She merely needed to cool down a little while the sun insisted upon beaming down on her. Being fair-skinned, she hated the sun and was truly praying for a really nasty thunderstorm to hit.
Smoothing her skirt and adjusting the strap of her bag, Maeby meandered closer to the girl while she fiddled with a thread. Something told her she was about to get into another verbal exchange that would boil her blood, but maybe not. She at least wanted to know if the girl was okay, or not. She might have been lost or something.
"Are you from 'round here?" She asked, her voice sounding gaurded but in no way harsh.
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Post by mabel on Aug 4, 2008 2:02:32 GMT -5
"Are you from 'round here?"
Mabel glanced up at the stranger, furrowing her eyebrows. Truth be told, the question was not an uncommon one. There was many a day that a passerby would stop to ask if she was lost or needed help and half the time that they did, she was selling her papers. It was beginning to get to her. While the idea of looking like she belonged at a lodging house was a gruesome one, standing out like she did was nothing if not aggravating.
"Yes," She replied curtly, a frown quirking at the corner of her lips. "Manhattan, that is. I don't just lurk around broken fountains..."
She was going to out herself as a newsgirl, but, until she got her hands on some money, she was as good as unemployed. "Are you from around here?" She asked pointedly.
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Post by bottlecap on Aug 4, 2008 3:03:38 GMT -5
Had Maeby known she would strike a chord with such a common question, she...would have still asked it. It wasn't her fault that the girl looked so out of place on the streets, was it? No, it wasn't. The curtness of the girl's reply only seemed to bare warning that this was likely to turn into something of a childish exchange very soon.
"Could have fooled me." Maeby returned, but there was humor behind her eyes as she watched the stranger. Why she would sound so offended was beyond her, but it amused her, as well. After all, she was, indeed lurking around a broken fountain.
"God, no." Maeby feigned disgust, but really she didn't have a problem with Manhattan. She was just taking the piss out of the girl for acting so offended about the question. "I'm from Brooklyn. Don't I look it?" She asked pointedly in return, but she was far from serious. Then again, Spot Conlon was short so one might think all Brooklynites would follow suit and Maeby was only 5'2"....
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Post by mabel on Aug 4, 2008 16:43:58 GMT -5
"God, no."
Mabel narrowed her eyes, glancing once to the side before turning her attention back to the girl. Her tone and manner were beginning to rub Mabel the wrong way. Shrugging her shoulders, Mabel addressed the girl's apparent dislike for Manhattan, "Well, if you don't like it, I suppose you shouldn't go around washing your face in its fountains, Hm?"
She kept her tone disinterested and distinctly unvenomous--she was not up for picking a fight, particularly because this girl seemed so keen to.
"I'm from Brooklyn. Don't I look it?"
Mabel, keeping her eyes trained on her skirt's loose thread, sighed dramatically. "Forward, cocky--why, yes, Miss. I do believe you could be from Brooklyn. my, you and Mr. Conlon could be two peas in one very self-assured pod." It was not Mabel's intention to bad mouth the Brooklyn leader; she didn't know him. But, if there was any truth to the rumors, his head was larger than the average man's.
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Post by bottlecap on Aug 4, 2008 16:53:23 GMT -5
"Well, if you don't like it, I suppose you shouldn't go around washing your face in its fountains, Hm?"
Maeby had to crack a smile at that well-made point. Believe it or not, Mabel's snarkiness was actually endearing her to Maeby. She wasn't like Sally Delancey and ignorant. Her comebacks had bite and actually made sense. Maeby could respect that in a girl, you know. She liked it.
What for her easy responses, the girl looked otherwise a bit uncomfortable with their conversation. Maeby stood in front of her, looking down as she hopelessly endeavored to finger-comb her tangled mess she called hair. She was well amused until Spot Conlon was mentioned, at which point she openly scowled.
"Spot isn't only self-assured," she struck up almost as though she was going to sing his praises, "he's absolutely blinded by his ego. Sometimes I could just knock his lights out, especially when he tries to act all--" She trailed off, opening the fist she'd been making when speaking of him. Maeby knew she shouldn't bad mouth her leader, but she'd been holding in her anger at him for too long, apparantly. It wasn't like she could vent to Brooklynites about it.
"Heh," she shrugged guiltily, then stuck out a spit-free hand. "I'm Maeby."
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Post by mabel on Aug 4, 2008 17:08:44 GMT -5
"he's absolutely blinded by his ego. Sometimes I could just knock his lights out, especially when he tries to act all--"
Blinking, Mabel ceased with her thread pulling and glanced up at the girl. Clearly, she and the great Spot Conlon were at odds and, with his reputation, it was not that surprising. There were probably a good many people who took isse with him. However, Mabel guessed there were only a handful who would mention it publicly. She had to commend the girl for her blatant disapproval.
"I'm Maeby."
Mabel's eyes noticably widened before she cracked a smile, "S'odd. I'm Mabel," She shook the girls extended hand. "Mabel Fitzpatrick."
"So," Mabel's tone had eased considerably. "What brings you to Manhattan? Besides one very disagreeable Mr. Conlon."
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Post by bottlecap on Aug 4, 2008 17:17:06 GMT -5
It was Maeby's inability to hide her dislike for Spot Conlon that had gotten her into the situation she'd recently been in to make her so willing to speak publically on his unattractive arrogance. She was guilty of possessing a fierce pride and when it was threatened, she struck out with white-hot venom. Not even the infamous Conlon should want to be on that unpleasant side of her.
The mood lightened within the instant and Maeby let her guard drop a little, sinking into a seated position at Mabel's side once the hand-shaking was out of the way. Their names were very similar, and Maeby shrugged in agreement that it was odd. Smoothing her skirt and tossing hair out of her face, she shook her head a little.
"Spot couldn't run me out of Brooklyn." She announced, "I sometimes work over her, though. And the Bronx, Queens...all over. Where ever the best money is." She explained to Mabel. She didn't normally announce her profession of thievery, but many of the newsies of the different burroughs were aware of it. She lived be a strict code, and would never pick the pocket of a peer.
"How about you?" She looked over curiously, "I usually stop by 'Hattan few times a week, but I don't think I've seen you before. Do you sell papers?"
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Post by mabel on Aug 4, 2008 17:48:21 GMT -5
"I sometimes work over her, though. And the Bronx, Queens...all over. Where ever the best money is."
Mabel was about to ask what she meant when it clicked. Mouthing a silent "oh", Mabel resisted the urge to frown on Maeby's profession. The time she had spent in the city had taught her that when life is unfair, it's okay to be a little unfair back. After all, at the end of the day, you need something to keep your stomach full and your body clothed.
"How about you?" She looked over curiously, "I usually stop by 'Hattan few times a week, but I don't think I've seen you before. Do you sell papers?"
Mabel nodded, "Yes... well, not always, but recently." Tipping her head back, Mabel maintain a manner of nonchalance. "My family's having a financial slump of sorts, so I thought I might try and make a little extra money on the side." What she failed to mention was that this "money on the side" accounted for her livelihood for the time being. And, since the price hike, her livelihood was put on a disconcerting hold.
"I'm staying at the Lodging House. The one Mr. Kelly runs." Mabel had taken to referring to the Manhattan leader this way as she thought it demanded more respect than, well, "Cowboy".
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Post by bottlecap on Aug 4, 2008 23:33:36 GMT -5
It almost surprised Maeby how quickly Mabel seemed to cotton on to the fact that she was a pickpocket, because normally she could drop a million hints and still have the fact evade people's notices. On the other hand, it was refreshing to find a girl with whom she could speak without having to explain everything in detail as though she were talking to a primate.
"My family's having a financial slump of sorts, so I thought I might try and make a little extra money on the side."
This seemed to happen quite a lot in the city, and Maeby merely tilted her head the slightest bit to show she understood. The last thing Maeby was eager to do was start a conversation about families or where they'd come from. She wasn't particularly interested in spilling her soul into the broken fountain.
"That explains why you're here, then." She nodded, "I been hearin' nothin' but complainin' 'bout the price hike lately. I remember last time this happened. In fact, I choose to blame that occasion for the current size of my famed leader's ego." She winked jokingly. No doubt about it, David's little peptalk that pulled Brooklyn into the strike had certainly stuck with Spot Conlon.
"I'm staying at the Lodging House. The one Mr. Kelly runs."
Crinkling her nose slightly, it took a moment for Maeby to register what Mabel was talking about. Never had she heard someone refer to the Manhattan leader in such a way, it nearly made her laugh. "Oh! You mean Jack." She slapped her hand down on her thigh, "He's a good guy. Ambitious....but good." She smirked a little. Jack Kelly was one of those 'save the planet' sorts, if you know what I mean.
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Post by mabel on Aug 5, 2008 12:46:19 GMT -5
"I been hearin' nothin' but complainin' 'bout the price hike lately. I remember last time this happened. In fact, I choose to blame that occasion for the current size of my famed leader's ego."
Yes, Mabel had heard about "last time"--quite a lot lately--and it scared her. If she had the extra money, she would just grin and bear the price hike. Unfortunately, Mabel did not have the extra money and would therefore have to wait on what the other newsies said. Mabel smirked at Maeby's comment about the Brooklyn leader, "Yes, well, hopefully that will get him to take some initiative." It wouldn't necessarily be initiative Mabel appreciated, but someone needed to do something.
"Oh! You mean Jack." She slapped her hand down on her thigh, "He's a good guy. Ambitious....but good."
Mabel bit her tongue hard to keep from saying, 'Well, if he was quite so ambitious as you say, what the hell is he doing being a newsie?' She recognized that Jack was a good man, but, again, it seemed like no one with influence was doing anything about the price hike.
"Well, I mean, it's not hurting you too much, right? Your job isn't dependent on old men with too much money..." Actually, Maeby's job probably was dependent on old men with too much money. Well, old men who liked to carry their savings in their pockets while wandering New York, anyway. Mabel figured Maeby knew what she meant.
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Post by bottlecap on Aug 5, 2008 16:42:53 GMT -5
"Yes, well, hopefully that will get him to take some initiative."
Maeby remembered only too well the last time the newsies were driven to strike, and she had greatly respected Spot for his careful decision to join. He hadn't rushed in foolhardy and big-headed, but had weighed the options and judged his allies carefully before making his decision. It was that Spot Conlon that had Maeby's full and unwavering respect, not the current hot-headed dictator she was beginning to see in him.
"Well, between me an' you, Mabel." Maeby lowered her tone just a level, "I think that it would be better if Spot waited on the other leaders before divin' in. I mean, he's Irish an' so am I so this is comin' from first hand--ya don't want the Irish makin' the first move. We act on instinct and hot-headed emotions. What you need is someone cool and level-headed; like Jack or Dodger."
It seemed almost traitorous to say what she had about Spot, but she trusted that he would do the right thing for Brooklyn even if his most recent behaviour was appalling. He really was quite cunning at heart.
"Well, I mean, it's not hurting you too much, right? Your job isn't dependent on old men with too much money..."
Maeby smirked a little, though knowing quite well what Mabel had meant by that. She sighed, looking out across the park thoughtfully before answering. "Don't affect my way of livin', no." She admitted slowly, "But I got a lot of friends dependent on the papes. It ain't a stroll in the park watchin' them struggle unnecessarily."
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