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Post by Administrator on Feb 4, 2007 23:32:00 GMT -5
Shiney red apples just sitting out there to be taken! ... and paid for!
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Post by giselle on Feb 6, 2007 19:15:59 GMT -5
Giselle sighed as she walked about Midtown, stopping at the nearby fruitcart. She bought her apple for three cents and strayed but a few steps from the cart, taking a bite out of her apple. Things had been going fairly slowly for her recently, in every sense of the word. Her work wasn't really going anywhere, but she was now drifting by instead of being very, very stressed. However now there was nothing to fill the space where her dancing had once been... and now she had a lot more free time since she wasn't dancing twelve hours a day any more.
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Post by Medda on Feb 13, 2007 0:30:42 GMT -5
Medda came over to the fruit cart for a snack. The Irving Hall was across the street and it was a convenient and quick place to grab a bight in the cold day. She picked out a few apples, inspecting them for bruises then payed the vendor and hurried back toward the theater. She nearly ran into Giselle, stopping just before bumping her. "Oh pardon me my dear!" she apologized genially and pulled her shawl tighter as she stepped around Giselle to cross the street.
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Post by giselle on Feb 14, 2007 18:44:51 GMT -5
Giselle smiled at the woman, "Its quite all right, Madame." Giselle said, hurridly gathering all the things that had been dropped when she'd been bumped. It wasn't much... just her dance shoes, tights and a wrapped loaf of bread. She recognized the woman, sort of... she just didn't know where from.
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Post by Medda on Feb 14, 2007 19:49:23 GMT -5
Medda stopped again,catching sight of the dance shoes. That sparked her interest. "A dancer I see" Medda bent down and picked up the loaf of bread. "Who do you dance for?" She asked curiously. She knew she wasn't one of her girls.
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Post by giselle on Feb 14, 2007 19:55:00 GMT -5
Giselle nodded with a smile, this time securely tucking her shoes and tights into her dance bag, "I dance for Arianette down in Queens... do you know her?" she asked, tilting her head. God, why couldn't she place who this woman was? She knew she looked familiar, and she knew now that she knew she did a theatrical show of some sort... but what was it?
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Post by Medda on Feb 15, 2007 2:33:34 GMT -5
Medda laughed resting her hands on her hips. Arianette, of course. Caprice had been luring in much of the young talent lately, thinning out the prospects at Irving Hall. "Sure I know her," She said merrily, amused by the coincidence, "shes my competition."
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Post by giselle on Feb 18, 2007 13:13:53 GMT -5
Allena smiled when she heard that, "Oh, I see...well, I suppose that makes perfect sense, I dont know why I hadn't really thought of that before." she said, shifting her back slightly, "My name is Giselle Dubois... might I ask yours?" she asked, tilting her head to the side a bit.
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Post by Medda on Feb 19, 2007 20:35:48 GMT -5
"Pleased to meet you" Medda smiled and started to go into character. She popped her hip with sass and touched her hair lightly with one hand. When she began to speak again she replaced her mild New York accent with an over the top Swedish one. "Medda Larkson, but most know me as the Svedish Meadowlark!" She gestured to the absurdly large sign of herself over the Irving Hall marquee across the street.
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jun 12, 2008 18:05:03 GMT -5
((New Day))
Racetrack wasn't in the mood to stick to Central Park today. The headlines were good and his papes were going fast, so he was put into good spirits and decided he didn't need to stick around there for much longer. So he wandered around Manhattan, stopping occasionally where there were crowds to sell a few papers. His travels took him to the fruit cart in Midtown, where people always seemed to mill about.
This area, he knew, was a popular place for newsies to sell, so he wouldn't have been surprised if someone else he knew was walking around. Maybe if he ran into someone they could set up a poker game after their selling was done. Boy, was he pining for a good poker game. But first things first, he thought as he made sure his cigar was hidden in his pocket (people, for some reason, took less kindly to newsies who smoked) and paused to stand on a crate and yelled the headlines. It wasn't long before he noticed a face in the crowd that seemed to stand out...
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Post by hawkeye on Jun 12, 2008 19:21:46 GMT -5
Hawkeye was wandering around aimlessly, not watching where she was going. She probably looked like a new-comer to the city, staring at buildings and shops as she walked, nearly bumping into every other person.
She was distracted to say the least. Since having spoken to Mabel about what she was going to do after selling papers (or rather- about how she didn't know what she was going to do after selling papers), Hawkeye had been looking around the city for potential places to get a job in a year or so, when she was too old to be a news-girl.
The fact that she was so close to turning an age where she wouldn't be able to make a living the same way she had for nearly five years made her nervous, and she certainly looked it.
"Oh- sorry, sorry, sir." Hawkeye jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding walking into a man. She continued walking and looked around at different shops, muttering their names under her breath, until-
FWAM.
She turned earlier than the street did and crashed into the wall of a building. "Oh, god..." She leaned against the wall and put her hand to her head, grumbling incoherently; occasionally something could be heard about inconveniently placed buildings.
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jun 12, 2008 20:28:57 GMT -5
Race had been distracted by a girl, a news-girl, by the looks of her, who seemed to have not seen a man until almost a second too late. He could recognize the face: it was at a distance, but he was pretty sure it was Hawkeye, a friend of his. He couldn't be sure exactly who she was, though...there were so many people around the lodging house nowadays he didn't think he often saw the same acquaintances twice.
As she neared, he confirmed that he was her, and raised a hand in greeting. But she seemed distracted, and as he looked on, Hawkeye crashed into the wall of a building, by chance the same one he happened to be near. "Oh God..." she said, and Race didn't hear any more. He went into a short fit of strangled laughter at her predicament. She was a friend, but this was the kind of thing he loved seeing, so long as no one was bleeding or broken in some way.
Realizing Hawkeye could hear him, Racetrack quickly composed himself and held up a hand apologetically, offering a grin. "Sorry, Hawkeye..." he said, and approached her. "I 'spose I ain't 'sposed to be laughin', am I?"
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Post by hawkeye on Jun 12, 2008 21:30:21 GMT -5
Hawkeye scowled, hearing someone laughing at her, but, upon realizing who it was, she smiled slightly. Had her face...and head not been hurting as much as they did, she probably would have laughed too. She'd be lying if she said that confused people crashing into walls wasn't funny.
"Sorry, Hawkeye..." he said, and approached her. "I 'spose I ain't 'sposed to be laughin', am I?"
Hawkeye shrugged, still rubbing her head, "I can't say I blame you." She grinned. "I'd have done the same if it were you."
She leaned down and picked up her hat; she assumed it had fallen off when she gracefully slammed her face into the wall. "So," she dusted off her hat and slid it back onto her head. "Are you selling papes or did you just walk over here to watch unsuspecting people do face-plants into buildings, Race?" She folded her arms across her chest and grinned. "I'm sure the latter is more appealing than the former."
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Post by Racetrack Higgins on Jun 16, 2008 17:22:35 GMT -5
"I can't say I blame you. I'd have done the same if it were you."
Racetrack rolled his eyes, but grinned a little. Hawkeye was good to talk to, mostly because she had just enough of a mouth on her to match Race, but not so much that he found her to be a pain in the neck. "Good ta know," Race said, and added sarcastically, "If I ever crash inta somethin' I'll let ya know so you'se can have a laugh about it..." Well, in reality he wouldn't willingly let anyone know that he crashed into a wall. If no one saw it, all the better for him.
"So. Are you selling papes or did you just walk over here to watch unsuspecting people do face-plants into buildings, Race? I'm sure the latter is more appealing than the former."
Race laughed. "Well, one gotta get done. And if the other happens...all the better for me!" He paused to shift his papers more firmly under his arm. "So Hawkeye. What brings you around here, eh?" he asked.
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Post by hawkeye on Jun 21, 2008 1:41:59 GMT -5
"If I ever crash inta somethin' I'll let ya know so you'se can have a laugh about it..."
Hawkeye grinned. "I appreciate that." Though she was fully aware that Race had too much pride to actually walk up to someone and cheerfully inform them that he had just run into a wall, the image was certainly a comical one.
"So Hawkeye. What brings you around here, eh?"
Her grin faded a bit. "Well, aside from walking head-first into poorly placed buildings, I, uh, I'm actually looking around for jobs." She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "I mean, I'm not going to quit selling papers right away, but the kid-on-the-streets routine only works for so long, y'know?"
Hawkeye was around the same age as Race and assumed he was probably in a similar situation as far as being a newsie went. "D'you have any idea what you're going to do after this?" She motioned to the papers under his arm. "Personally speaking," she laughed, "I haven't the slightest."
Hawkeye smiled slightly, "Hey, I bet you could work at a betting booth at the races if you wanted to." She grinned. "You'd definitely know what you were doing and you've got the right name for it. Ever thought about that?"
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