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Post by Administrator on Apr 15, 2010 15:05:39 GMT -5
The uppermost floor of the lodging house with entrances from the fire escape and the attic.
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Post by itsfreshkid on Jun 16, 2011 1:33:12 GMT -5
It was routine for Blues Tucker to hide out on the roof for hours on end. She’d wrap up her hands - one in white cloth and the other in her signature red - and throw punches at the air. It calmed her, believe it or not. Pretending she was bashing in the faces of the men that took her father away, socking Maryann St. George in the stomach for accusing the first black man she saw. It was sickening, and since Brooklyn hadn’t been seeing much action, at least not as far as Blues was concerned, she had to get her swings in somewhere. Right hooks, left hooks, right into the fly passing by or an imaginary goon coming at her. One final throw and she hit the sturdy, brick chimney with a loud crack.
Blues grimaced and let out a quick yelp. With an exhausted and pained sigh, she slid down the chimney, eyes closed, and idly unwrapped her left hand. It was bruising already - a disgusting shade of yellow, and a dash of purple. She examined it for a minute, curling and uncurling her fingers, and clenched her jaw. She didn’t have the time or money for this. Customers didn’t take pity on injured, orphan kids. Not in Brooklyn, they didn’t. They were dirty, and clearly violent vagabonds with no education. No, this would be bad for selling. Blues would have to keep it wrapped for at least a week. Which meant being a turtledove was a definite no.
That cut down her salary by half, already. The girl let out a loud, frustrated scream then pushed herself from the ground - regretting it almost immediately as her hand gave another, small crack. Ignoring it, Blues walked over to the edge of the roof, peering over curiously. She watched the dying crowd pass beneath her, happily and with their families or friends. One specific couple - a father and daughter - skipped by together, laughing. Blues shook her head and bit her lip, a glare on her face, and gave a bitter snort, “Suck it up for all it’s worth, kid.” |
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Post by Fighter Mallory on Jun 21, 2011 15:32:32 GMT -5
Fighter climbed up to the roof, rubbing her jaw lightly with her hand. She'd gotten into yet another fight at work with one of the customers and she'd been sent home early. They'd also felt the need to tell her that it was her last warning and she'd be fired if it happened again. Normally she'd tell them to piss off and find another job but she actually liked the place she worked. If it weren't for the handsy customers getting out of line then it'd be the perfect job for her. She cracked her bloody knuckles and smirked as she remembered the look on the guys face when she decked him. He'd tried to take more then a few swipes at her but she was also quick on her feet so she'd avoided most of them. The hit that had landed had been a lucky one. His friend had tripped her up and he'd landed a quick blow to her face but it was nothing she hadn't felt before. Besides he was sporting a black eye, split lip, and cracked head from the beer bottle she'd broken over the top of it.
When she reached the roof she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. It took her a moment to notice she wasn't the only one up there and when she did she quirked an eyebrow at the other girl. She looked somewhat familiar but Brooklyn lost more females then it kept so she usually didn't try to get to know them until they'd been there for awhile. Fighter took another drag from the cigarette and moved closer to the girl as she spoke. Fighter didn't bother to reply since it seemed like she was talking more to herself then to Fight. In fact, it seemed like she hadn't even realized she wasn't alone anymore. Fighter shook her head at the thought, but still decided to remain quiet. She hadn't come up here looking for chitchat, just a moment to relax before she went inside.
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Post by Jax McCloud on Oct 16, 2011 17:30:50 GMT -5
<New Day>
Jax leaned against the ledge, striking a match and touching the resulting flame to the tip of the cigarette in his mouth. He'd climbed up by the fire escape, not wanting to contend with the bustle of the lodging house's occupants that might be gathered in the rooms below. Besides, the fresh air was rather nice on an evening such as this and he fully intended to enjoy his smoke in solitude - something that he more often than not was able to find. As he blew out a long stream of smoke, he glanced down at his hand, flexing it cautiously and wincing slightly as his knuckles throbbed in protest. Hadn't been his best day in a ring, he'd had along bout with a larger opponent and paid the price when the guy had landed some well placed blows - the results had been a rare loss for Jax and the bruises to his body and pride to go along with it.
As he smoked, Jax turned and looked down over the city, bracing his hand against the ledge and thought back over the fight, mentally making notes for improvement and begrudging the fact that the loss had also left his pockets a little emptier for the next few days. It seemed he'd have to resort to selling papes like the rest of the lodging house, not exactly something he looked forward too but he'd have to make it work until he could back in the ring. And get back in the ring he most certainly would.
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Post by Lucky Volpecillia on Oct 16, 2011 18:47:54 GMT -5
"Holy fucking christ," Lucky jumped back and muttered at herself as she moved up onto the roof propper. She'd wanted a smoke, needed something to take her mind off of-- well everything and the night air was just as cool and collected as it ever was. Her eyes shifted onto Jax as she vaulted the last few feet to find solid footing.
They were all getting old, she realized. Eve Jax to her mind was getting older. Eyes shifting over his bruises and she smirked unable to resist the way it reminded her that she was home. His battered face, Zeke running off to meet some girl. It wouldn't be home without him, or without Spot. Hell she didn't want to be anywhere else. She was slowly losing enough in her life.
"Looking good Jax, how'd you make out?" her smokes were fished from the skirt she wore. The years when she'd pretended to be a boy were gone. Standing in the night she had become a woman somehow, her long brownish hair lose down around her shoulders since she couldn't for the life of her figure out how to pin it up. Her skirt was dingy but clean and the blouse showed that she did have curves. Even though the baggy coat she wore over it swamped her-- it was old, older than she'd care to admit to anyone or where she got it. Because he was long gone just the same.
"Pretty night." she murmured as she searched her pockets for a match, frowning when she couldn't find one, swearing the moment when she pulled them out and there wasn't one. "Got a light?"
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Post by Jax McCloud on Oct 16, 2011 19:33:29 GMT -5
Jax glanced over as someone, with great ceremony, burst onto the rooftop and he relaxed a little when he saw that it was Lucky. He considered her a friend and her presence would be neither infringing nor unwelcome and so he smiled slowly over in her direction, but didn't shift from his position leaning against the ledge. "Lucky," He said by way of greeting, grimacing when she asked how he had managed that day, knowing his marks could be those of a profitable or a disastrous day - the results were hard to tell by the bruises sometimes. "Not my best outing," He answered honestly, partly because it would be easy enough for find out the truth and partly because he didn't mind telling her. No fighter was infallible or unbeatable, no matter how much he longed to be; he'd just had a bad day was all.
He made a noise of agreement at her comment about the night, because it was, the air was cool but not cold and as evening was turning into night there was something of a peacefulness to the air that could be rare for the city. At her request for a light he fished in his pocket for his book of matches, striking one and holding it out for her, lighting the end of of her cigarette and then shaking out the match. "Looks like I'm back to selling papes for a few days," He drawled, musing out loud, half to himself and half to Lucky as the smoke curled from the extinguished match up into the air and dissipated.
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Post by Lucky Volpecillia on Oct 28, 2011 17:09:37 GMT -5
Miranda shrugged her shoulders into the old worn coat and sat down, taking a drag from her smoke as she closed her eyes. There was more to say and do in the twilight hours to her mind than during the day. Nodding appreciatively when he gave her a light she drew in the breath and raised a brow. Between Jax and Zeke she knew two of the best boxers in New York it was rare for either of them to lose. Though Zeke flaunted his battle scars right into a willing woman's bed, Lucky hadn't thought Jax was the type. Taking her smoke in her fingers she sat down and winced.
"I haven't sold a pape in over two years," she muttered, her accent as thick and strong as the whiskey at mcginty's. Brooklyn proud, she was born there, she was sure she was going to die there. That was how it worked, another drag from her cigarette had her sighing. Shaking her head the girl leaned back into the wall and let her eyes close, it was a cool night the coat barely staved off the chill. "I dunno if I could go back ta doin' that. I mean... I'm not a kid anymore, guys tend to think your sellin' somethin else these days. Bloody gits.."
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Post by Jax McCloud on Oct 28, 2011 18:30:19 GMT -5
"Don't have much choice," Jax commented, shaking his head at the thought of selling papes because that was hardly the way he liked to spend his time. "Losin' took a big chunk out of my pocket." He hadn't exactly ever been the best about saving his pennies and had spent a number of night on the streets - or the land on account of just that. But he did what he had to get by and tomorrow that would mean selling papes until the next fight was lined up. Maybe he'd wander down to the docks and see if they had a need for any extra hands, he certainly had the back and muscle for the work and all things considered it might be a more viable option.
"Somethin' tells me you know how to handle those that may think you are sellin' something you ain't," Jax commented with a smirk, knowing that Lucky was one of the toughest girls in the borough and that sometimes she went underestimated because of her size. He hated to see what happened to those who thought she wouldn't bite back - he smiled at that thought, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out the smoke. The women here in the city were tough in a different way from the ones he knew out West, like his momma or sister in law, Emma. Those women were tough to the core, weathered by elements and the land, softened by their families; when it came right down to it, Jax had been surrounded by tough women his whole life. He kind of liked it that way.
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Post by Lucky Volpecillia on Oct 28, 2011 18:43:51 GMT -5
Miranda liked thinking she could take care of herself and she was quick with a switch blade if need be, he was right though and it made her smile. They understood her in Brooklyn, no one tried to change her or wanted her to be a weak woman that needed to be saved. She'd proved that when the bulls had tried to take her away, proved it when people went away and she remained. Time and again she'd proven her guts and gusto, where others had failed she had succeeded.
"Aye well," she said with a smirk herself, taking a drag from her smoke as she relaxed more. Comfortable in her own skin, she was. "You could help down at Sheepshead for a spell, they might need a strong back or down at the docks they holler form time to time, I know when Zeke is low he will throw his weight around the blacksmith's shop. Though he's a bit of a moron." She loved her boys but some of them were going to end up deader than a doornail before long. She often thought Spot's arrogance would get him killed quickly.
"Ah, well, I'm quick," she replied after a moment and a shrug. "I was young when my Papa died and it was just me, had to take care of myself. Didn't hurt the lads didn't know I was a girl when I was small. though I think that's a big part of what kept me safe until the lot of them realized it.."
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Post by Jax McCloud on Oct 28, 2011 19:54:47 GMT -5
"Sheepshead is an idea," Jax said, rubbing at his chin as he considered the idea. It hadn't even crossed his mind, but it fit him better then hawking papes on the street would, give him a chance to work with horses again - he certainly had the experience. "Thanks Lucky, I'll check that out tomorrow," He said with an easy grin, because he did appreciate the tip and the fact that Lucky had thought to pass it along. He smirked a little at her comment about Zeke, he didn't know him well, only in passing at the ring - they hadn't faced each other - and the little he heard around the borough. But Zeke seemed like an alright enough guy, at least as far as Jax would be concerned with.
"Something to be said for bein' quick," Jax drawled, looking at his cigarette as it burned low and saved one last drag off of it before stubbing it out against the ledge and turning to look back towards the lodging house. "Certainly doesn't hurt in my line of work either." Being quick in the ring could definitely be a benefit, and being just that was something that Jax had worked long and hard to perfect - they all did what they had to, to survive.
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Post by Maeby Quick on Feb 26, 2012 16:31:18 GMT -5
There were times when Maeby got to yearning for a place she didn't even remember. These were the times when she felt the most secluded from the things going on around her; the loneliest she ever got. She didn't like to burden those around her with these moods, instead climbing up the fire escape to the roof of the Brooklyn Lodge. Here, she would gaze over the city and try to think of all the reasons why Brooklyn was her home now.
Choosing the corner nearest to the view of the East River, Maeby pulled herself up to perch precariously on the ledge. She had excellent balance but was careful to keep a firm hold on the ledge as she made herself comfortable. The evening was chilly, the wind blowing her gingery tress about her gently as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped an arm around them.
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