The Front Steps

[David Jacobs]

"They aren't liable to kick you out," David replied with an easy grin. "Just more make their distaste for their sleep being interrupted known...repeatedly." His grin grew wider as he thought of his trying to struggle for just a few moments of sleep at any given moment --just as any of them did when they could.

"David Jacobs," He said, taking her head and giving it a quick shake before shoving his hands back in his pockets and glancing up at the lodging house. "You need anything, you let me know, I don't stay here but I know my way around well enough." She was a pretty girl with a nice smile and David figured she'd fit in nicely with the rest of the Manhattan crowd once they got to know her.

"You just arrive?" He didn't think he'd seen her around before, but his trips to the lodging house hadn't been as frequent recently, with other things on his mind, so he couldn't be sure she hadn't just slipped under his flimsy radar.

[fiddler]

Fiddler nodded when David explained how the newsies would react if she played her fiddle early in the morning. Inside, she was secretly very relieved that they wouldn't kick her out - being a newsie with no where really to stay wasn't very good.

"You just arrive?" he asked.

She nodded once more. "Yeah," she said, "I figured being a newise as well as performing on the street would make some good money. My family needs it." She didn't elaborate, not wishing to. She liked this David, but she didn't know him well enough to divulge all her secrets. (Although it wasn't scandalous or anything like that; she just liked to keep some things to herself.)

"Have you been a newsie long?" she asked, before settling her fiddle across her lap so she didn't have to hold it anymore.

[David Jacobs]

She didn't elaborate and he didn't ask. Nearly everyone had secrets on the streets, himself included, and as far as David was concerned they were theirs to keep. "Awhile now," David said in reply to her question, glancing up towards the lodging house. "Not as long as Jack, Race or the others, but ever since just before the strike."

Sometimes it felt like it had been longer, that he had been walking the streets and peddling papes for near as long as he could remember. Other times David swore the strike had just been over yesterday and he was the new guy -- the Mouth. But it didn't really matter how long he had been a Newsie, the fact was that he was one and he wouldn't change that for anything.

"Good crew here, we take care of our own, especially after everything that's happened lately." He sighed and lifted a hand to scrub his fingers through his dark curly hair. "You keep playing that fiddle like that you might bring some much needed cheer around here." The mess at the warehouse had started to fade, though he knew some of them carried scars from those events that ran far deeper than what you could see on the skin. His thoughts trailed briefly to Fight, to the burdens he knew she carried even if she didn't say, the ones that they both did.

[fiddler]

Just before the strike. She had heard about the strike through her older brother; the newsies had fought hard, and when they won, her respect for them had risen. Ultimately, it had solidified her decision to join them when her family had gotten back on their feet.

"Good crew here, we take care of our own, especially after everything that's happened lately."

Fiddler raised an eyebrow. The way he said it, she had a feeling it wasn't anything good.

"You keep playing that fiddle like that you might bring some much needed cheer around here."

His face darkened and she wondered what had happened. She didn't ask - prying into someone's business that obviously wasn't pleasant wasn't a way to earn a good name around here.

"Well," she replied, "that's what I intend to do. If it brings happiness to me, why not share it with others?" She smiled gently, hoping that this dark moment would pass.

[dreamer]

(~*NEW DAY*~)

Night-time had become Dreamer's new favorite time of day.

It was the best time for her to think, for her to relax...

...And for her to have a smoke.

As she pulled out a cigarette from her back-pocket, she sat herself down on the front steps of the Manhatten Lodging House, setting her empty newspaper satchel aside, and looked out on the nearly empty streets of New York as a starry night casted over the city.

Dreamer had just got done selling 50 papers for the evening edition of "The New York World". Normally she only sold 25 papers, but today had a pretty good headline.

"God bless the inmates on Riker's Island for those escape attempts," she chuckled through her teeth, her cigarette in between as she used the sole of her shoe to light a match.

She was about to put the match to her cigarette, but realized that the small stick had broken in half.

"Crap," she muttered. "That was my last one."

Sighing a bit, she took the cigarette out of her mouth, and sang "The Yellow Rose of Texas" softly as she leaned back against the steps behind her, her cap and strands of her messy blonde hair covering her eyes.

There's a yellow rose in Texas that I am going to see,
No other darkey knows her, no darkey only me;
She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart,
And if I ever find her we never more will part.
(Chorus)
She's the sweetest rose of color this darkey ever knew,
Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew,
You may talk about your Dearest May, and sing of Rosa Lee,
But the yellow rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee

[Squints Matsumura]

King slowly made his way back to the lodging house. He was exhausted; getting up early to sell the morning edition of 'The World', then a full afternoon mucking out stalls at the stables, and an evening of helping train the new horse and after, selling the evening edition of the paper. His bed was calling to him.

As King got closer, he saw a familiar face sitting on the front steps. He watched as she pulled a cig out of her back pocket and try to light it unsuccessfully. He chuckled to himself as he pulled a cigarette out of his own pocket and lit it with a match. He took a long drag from it and exhaled. He leaned up against a wall a few feet away and listened as she began to sing her song.

As she neared the end of the song, King pushed himself off the wall and closed the distance between them and sat down on the steps. "Need a light, Dreamer?" he asked leaning back against the steps looking up at the sky.

_{(I hope it's okay, but I made it out that they already knew each other since they both live in Manhattan.)}

[dreamer]

"Need a light, Dreamer?"

Dreamer sat up from where she was leaning, and pulled her newsboy cap up to find King, another Manhatten newsie. She smiled. Normally, whenever Dreamer was singing to herself, it always bothered or scared her to know that someone was nearby and within earshot. She didn't think she had that much of a good voice, and made it a point to never sing in front of anybody.

But this was King--Dreamer didn't mind if he heard her or not. Besides, Dreamer was kind of too tired to care if someone heard her sing.

"Thanks King," she smiled, accepting the offer of a light for her cigarette. "How was your day, anyway?"

((Sorry it's short. It's all I have in my head right now. Haha))

[Squints Matsumura]

"How was your day, anyway?"

King exhaled a big puff of smoke into the air above them and let his cigarette dangle from his fingers. "Way too long. I went straight from selling papes this morning to the stables to work and then right back to selling papes... I'm exhausted."

King raised the cigarette back up the his lips and took another long drag before exhaling. "What about you, doll? How'd your day go?"

(Another short one. Inspiration hasn't hit me yet... heh)

[manhattan]

>>>New Day<<<

Manhattan brushed her hair and straightened her dress. Damn thing she thought to herself. Her hair was long now. She couldnt have fitted it under a newsie hat if she wanted to... She looked female. Tings changed during the time she spent moving boroughs and restaurants since she had left, well some of them had requirements like their waitresses looking like women. It'd been a long time since she had been in Manhattan. She had helped when she could. Leaving food and supplies where they were needed. Even if she couldnt face the boys, couldnt face their injuries, their faces, she made sure they were fed. They were family. You didnt let family down no matter how damaged you yourself were.

She sat and Relaxed on the steps like she hadnt been able to relax since she left. She was home. She didnt know if it was for sure. She didnt know if they were ready or even if she was. All she knew was this, right here was what she had missed. This was home. She let her mind wander back to her last encounter with one of her Newsies. It brought a smile to her face.

~flash back~
"I must say... your bright eyes sure ain't never lost their sparkle." Mush was an incessant flirt, what is there to say? But he did it without thinking, which made it genuine. He meant ever compliment that ever left his mouth. He just came off as a sweet guy. Maybe not the most brave, strong or smart, or fast, or anything else. But if nothing else, he was sweeter than sugar, and wouldn't rot your teeth with a kiss.

She leaned into the hug. She wanted to help. She did. She just couldnt hands on. Not yet. Not on the front line where everything is so harsh still, so raw. She could handle it if there was a buffer, the restaurants, but full on. No. Even Mush face to face was almost to much. To real. It made her miss it all. Manhattan. The Boys. But going back...it wouldnt be the same. Seeing Blink had driven that home. It had been bad. Really bad and all she had wanted to do instead of yell at him was hug him and never let go. All she wanted was Mush to wrap her in his arms, warm and safe and take her home. See Jack, and Sweets and Bumlets, and skittery, and and and... everyone. Reassure herself they're ok, reassure her that shes home, safe, loved. No. Not yet. Its all still too raw. Just... not yet.

Manhattan shook her head and smiled. "And youah honey'd tongue is still just as sweet as evah." She blushed none the less, she knew out of all the girl newsies in New York she was one of the most average but it didnt matter to her. Never had. "Save youah sweet nothins foah yoah sweetheart Meyers...youah already gettin free food outtah me i dont need ta heah it." She winked at him.

"Hey now! I know I hand out compliments like candy... but that dun mean they ain't true. I mean every word I evah say ta anyone... in the form of a compliment at least," he added with a chuckle. That was the thing about mush's charm. Though he was a charming boy, and a bit of a player... he did mean what he said. He wasn't a liar. He prided himself in that.

"You're a sweet heart ta help us out Manhattan." Yeah, even though she wasn't coming to help directly, the fact that she was going to offer the food to keep the people going was just as important. "And I'm sure everyone will be happy to know that you're okay, and that you're still helpin' out in anyway you can." He gave her a sincere smile. "Thanks," he added honestly.

[Racetrack Higgins]

Most of the time, Racetrack didn't feel like he needed to smoke. He would hear some fellas harping and going on about how they needed a cigarette, and he just smirked at them. Didn't they know not to get too attached to something they couldn't guarantee they could get all the time? Not to say Race wasn't attached. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't, of course; his cigars were important to him if only because they were some of the most expensive things he owned (and that was saying something, all things considered, and nothing too good at that).

Race was well aware that he never needed a smoke. It was just something he wanted every once in a while. And he'd allow himself that. Because, hey, who wouldn't? He touched his vest pocket, and felt out the outline of his matchbook and the two-inch stub of a cigar he just wouldn't let go of, not yet. Might as well get what you could out of what you had before going on to something else...

He stepped out of the lodging house after trying to light up near the desk and getting his ear chewed off by Kloppman, and walked nonchalantly now the stairs. He noticed the girl sitting on the steps and thought nothing of her, at first--people could sit on steps all they wanted, so long as they didn't complain to him about anything. God knew he would sit wherever the hell he wanted, damned if he told someone else they couldn't. As he cupped his hand around the lit match and puffed on the cigar to light it, he glanced sideways at the girl on the steps, wondering casually if they might have been waiting for Specs or Blink or some similar rake.

He nearly swallowed his cigar, then nearly dropped it. "I'll be God damned..." he said, his voice made uncharacteristically light with awe. "Is that--it's you, you crazy dame, inn'it?!" He grinned at her, jovial in the sudden recognition of an old friend.