#tossin-the-little-lady

[semperamans]

I just saw the Bikeriders and...I can't stop thinking about Benny with a baby. Him holding them in his strong, muscular arms, letting them play with his curls and sleep on his chest...it's driving me crazy.

sobbin' :(

the fourth of july dawns hot and muggy which, in the city would be fuckin' miserable, but at the lakehouse there's a nice little breeze rufflin' your hair and caraessing your sun-warmed cheeks. it's become a vandal tradition; celebratin' the holiday together, wading through the waves, nappin' on the beach, dodgin' errant fireworks from the overly-giddy boys. there's always a steady stream of chatter in the air, the sound of wet feet plodding down the pier followed by the inevitable thwack of a bare belly on the murky green ripples. the air smells like woodsmoke, like grilled hot dogs and melting tan lotion. it's a family vacation where there are more games of badminton being played than poker n'beers flow, but the guys are much more contained. it's a heart-warming sight to see; these big broad bikers with their tattoos and burly beards smiling so fondly at the little ones who dash about. in the core group, there's only a few youngins: cockroach's son, johnny's girls, and of course, gail and brucie's three year old little lady. she's a hoot to be around. this little chunk, with the critical gaze she inherited from her father, has captured the hearts of you all, but no one more so than benny. uncle benny is always tossin' her into the air and blowin' raspberries in her neck which makes her positively cackle. uncle benny blew up her pool float and slathered sunscreen on her little arms. she sat on your lap during dinner, but wanted uncle benny to spoon her ice cream for dessert. n'now uncle benny is clutchin' her, holding her tight to his chest as he hums the song on the radio and listens intently to the conversation being held by brucie and johnny. it's precious. so cute that your heart is melting and not from the heat :( her smooshy cheek presses into his chest, tired eyes struggling to stay open :( you keep watching, heart twanging as her little hand reaches up, fingers fiddling with the curls at the base of his neck and then she's out. sound asleep. cradled in the protective sinew of benny's arms and he seems to know. his blue eyes flick down, small smile tugging the corner of his mouth as he presses a kiss to the top of her head and continues rockin'.

"he's gonna be a great daddy," gail says, passing the now half-empty bottle of wine to you. he will. you just know it. your sweet benny. he's told you over and over that he can't wait for that day to come because "i love you, an' i'd love to have a little you runnin' 'round." and now you're thinkin' that day should be sooner rather than later.

[sirxlla]

Early Mornings, Long Nights

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of his PTSD.

Prompt: You've been in bed too long and Tim wants you to get up.

Notes: Female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

"Get up Lil' Lady, its past noon already." He pinched your ass earning a groan from you as you whined into the pillow. Tim's side of the bed was always cold cause he can't sleep past six or whatever god forsaken hour he got up.

Tim pulled the blankets off you and your hands found the slats of the headboard just incase he went to pull you outta bed Freaky Friday style, which he'd done before much to your displeasure.

"I'm going to start being nocturnal." You murmured into the pillow which made him smile. You had worked an exceedingly long shift last night.

"Okay, Batman. I know you've saved the city but you gotta get up. I've already been up for like six hours and I miss you." His hands gently rubbing your back to try to help you wake up.

"Awwww, Im touched but it's not my fault you like to taste the asscrack of dawn." You turned your head to the side so your mouth wasnt squished into the pillow.

"The only thing I like to taste in the morning is coffee and your disgusting morning breath." Tim added with another pinch to your ass which earned another groan from you, you rolled up to sit on the edge of the bed with a grumble sitting up.

"It's the weekend, weekends are for sleeping in." Whining almost like a child.

"Weekends are the only time I get to spend full days with you most of the time." He kissed your forehead as he approached you.

"Bad night?" You asked as you noticed a bit if a tiredness under his eyes.

"Just one of those nights the mattress feels too soft. Im fine, Sweetheart. Don't worry about me." Tim tried to brush it off.

"I just want you to wake me when it gets bad, you know? I don't give a shit if I just worked a fourty-eight or not."

"Last night was just a bit of tossin' n turnin', it was nothin'." His gently rubbed the back of your neck as your hands smoothed over his chest.

"We can start makin the cots on the floor again, Honey. I spent a lot of my childhood sleepin on the floor so I get what you mean slightly." You stated, which the bit about joining him just made his little heart swell. He could hear the sincerity and the nonchalant way you'd join him like it was nothin', he slightly nodded his head. His brain couldnt get over just how much you cared for him. Never did you make his PTSD, his nightmares or any bit of bullshit stuff he still went through feel like it was a nuisance.

The other day was super rough for him, something at work just had Tim all out of pieces and the both of you carpool to work which is fine but he saw a bag in the road and immediately swerved out of the way but he had done it quickly and scared the shit out of both of you. The stress in his mind from that day made him think it was an 'IED' or something along those lines.

He pulled off to the side of the road and just sat there. You didnt try to overly comfort him or anything cause often trying to do that shit just made him feel even worse; You offered a open left hand for him to grab if he wanted, not forcing just there if he needed it.

This time Tim didnt grab it right away, he just got out of the driver's side which kinda gave you the heads up he needed you to drive so you got up and you both switched spots.

"I'm sorr-" Tim started.

"No, don't. Don't apologize for days like this...It's okay." You said in a kind and sincere way.

Anyways, back to today. You got your ass out of bed and went to the fridge to get a little pick me up.

"You know those energy drinks are bad for you?" He playfully chastised you.

"Yeah, the day I start worrying about shit that'll kill me I'd have to give up my job and that shit ain't happenin' either, Baby." You said as you cracked open one of the several Monster coffee's in the fridge.

"Besides, I like traumatizing myself. It make the already bad laundry list of trauma bullshit I have more fun...and you know what they say. 'The more trauma, the more kinky you are in bed' or some shit."

"You'd make Miranda Lambert upset with how easily you make shit up."

"Well assumptions arent white lies, My Sweet Cowboy Casanova."

"Ugh, why'd you always gotta take it back to Oklahoma?" The texan said with a smile, moving to stand infront of you before gently lifting you onto the kitchen table. Your legs found themselves around his waist, the canned coffee being moved onto the table.

Tim burried his face in your chest as you began massaging the back of his neck, he needed comfort after last night and all he had to do was silently ask.

Masterlist <- -> Tim Masterlist

[yayforocs]

CD #2

Whirrrrrrrrrrrrr…

“So… today was… Today was fun! Mostly. Right to the end, anyway.” A throat clears, and the voice continues. “So apparently these are supposed to be daily missions we get sent on, so I guess I’m gonna be making a lot of these? I hope this can hold all of ‘em. Might have to grab my recorder from home or somethin’. But uh. Yeah. So, we did our first mission today! It went pretty well, ‘t least I think it did. Voltage might not agree with me, heh. But we had to go to a…. what’dshecallit a uh… ffffantasy world! That’s it, fantasy. ‘N we had to get this apple pie recipe from a bakery that’d been overrun by goblens for a tiny wizzard guy that wanted to taste the pie he’d had as a kid. So he gave us a map, thought we were part of the local adventurer’s guild or- I’m assuming local, at least- an’ sent us on our way. Fought a real weird bug-lookin’ creature on the way there, an’ I landed the killing blow!”

There’s a short pause, as if the speaker was taken aback.

“Final blow. I landed the final blow. Hm.”

Another short pause, but it’s shorter than the first.

“Anyways, we got over to this town, an’- oh yeah! Right, yeah, everything looked real like… Colorful? But like really colorful. Like someone took a regular place an’ just made the colors like… even moreso. More intense maybe? An’- an’ we had to use the necklaces to get there! So all the ponds an’ such outside, we gotta stand next to a certain one, open the wings on the necklace, twist it clockwise three times, an’ then jump in the water an’ it just takes us there, just like that! ‘Course, you gotta close the wings once you get there, an’ then do the same thing but counter-clockwise when you wanna go back, but get this: you don’t get wet! At all! Which was a big relief to me, y’know, ‘cause of my gunpowder an’ explosives an’ stuff. Don’t want any o’ that gettin’ wet.”

“But right, yeah, we got over to the town an’ found the bakery an’ snuck in, an’ there was this tree with a face right by the front door but it didn’t do anything to us, so we got in and started lookin’ around, found a safe with money in it, found a lotta empty pie boxes, and a whole lotta nothin’. At least, ‘til-”

The speaker cuts off for a second.

“Uh.”

“The.”

There’s a short hum, and a shifting noise.

“She’s uh. It’s the masked lady with the four arms. Her. Codenames person. She found a little trapped drawer that had half the recipe in it, an’ also a poison dart that she got hit with once she opened it. It was a real neat little trap, I was able to pick it apart an’ see how it worked! Didn’t find anything else in there, though. But there was this big ol’ kitchen right next to the main room area, an’ it had a buncha rolling pins an’ ovens an’ knives an’ stuff all movin’ on their own! Poked around there some, didn’t see anything, but there was a door upstairs that was like a trap door, an’ uh… I really need to- Mask. Mask an’ I went up there to listen in, while Voltage was keepin’ an eye out for a patrol of goblens he’d seen outside, an’ then one of ‘em came in through another door! Had himself a bucket of apples an’ just started tossin’ em around the kitchen, makin’ applesauce or somethin’, an’ we could hear a whole bunch more goblens upstairs too, but we were kinda trapped on the stairs for a bit. Managed to get down an’ talk to the lone one, an’ of course he yelled, which tipped off the upstairs ones, but then we got somethin’ worked out where they’d let us go find the recipe if we taught them how to make apple pie!”

“Which turned into Voltage teaching them how to make apple pie while Mask an’ I found the recipe upstairs, since he already knew how to make at least some kind’a apple pie, and… well… heh, it seemed like he was having a real fun time.” There’s a snicker. “Poor guy, I think they could hardly understand what he was tryin’ t’ tell ‘em. But it worked eventually, an’ they made their pie, an’ they were happy, an’ the wizzard was happy, an’ we got back alright. Shontil came down t’ meet us an’ ask how things went, and uh… well, I found out that even though we can go back to our own world wherever, or- whenever, I guess, we still age while we’re here.”

“So… I… I don’t really know what to think about that. I mean, it makes sense, time passes here just the same as it does back home, but… I dunno, I feel like everyone back home’s missing out on something. Maybe I should go back every night so they still get to see me- like. Grow, I guess. But if I go back every night then I’m missin’ stuff here, too. I don’t really wanna be the only one outta the team that doesn’t stay, an’ besides, we’re like. We’re… we’re here, so… I don’t wanna just… ignore the room. It’s meant to be used, so I should use it, right?”

A sigh.

“I dunno. Maybe I just need to think about it some more. One more day could- wouldn’t hurt anything, an’… I can probably wander around and talk to some people an’… an’ get some thoughts from others, too. Or if not, maybe I can find Shontil an’ ask her what most people do. Somethin’. Oh- right, yeah, maybe I can hop over to uh… what’shername- Requiem’s room? But she was outside it so maybe it wasn’t hers actually. Or maybe I’ll just ask her whenever she gives us the clothes, I could do that. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, ok, I can wander around a bit, maybe find someone else or Shontil, an’ if not, then I’ll just ask when we get the clothes, because Requiem said she’d get us some new clothes because she does that for everyone I guess? Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyways, that’s all for today, I think.”

The whirring slows, and then stops.

[ya9amicide]

The End of the World In a Woman’s Hands [Newsies]

chapter two

♡ newsies masterlist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ♡

summary: Being a girl in the everyday world is difficult. Being the leader of the Manhattan Newsies and a girl? Even more so. Especially when nobody knows you're a girl and the truth is the closest kept secret you have ever had. For Jack Kelly, keeping the truth of her gender a secret is one she's found easy after doing so for many years. Unfortunately, having close encounters with the iron fist, Pulitzer, and a new Newsie who seems determined to get to know her, that secret might just become the opposite.

pairing: fem!jack kelly x david “davey” jacobs

warnings: none

Race, a little tough guy, calls to the others as he dresses. “Hey, Albert, Elmer, Specs! You heard Jack. Get a move on.”

Albert appears next to him, still wiping the sleep from his eyes. “I was havin’ the most beautiful dream. My lips is still tingling.”

“Ooh, a pretty girl?” Race goads him.

Albert smiles cheekily. “A leg of lamb!” Racetrack pushes him playfully. More boys begin to appear as they dress and wash. Younger boys pump water for older boys, then trade-off. Teeth brushing, sponge baths with cold water–the older boys shave. Albert takes out a cigar and starts smoking it.

Race turns back to him, spotting the cigar. “Hey! That’s my cigar!” He tries to swipe it from Albert's hands.

Albert dodges Race. “You’ll steal another!”

Specs walks past and motions to all of the newsboys getting ready. “Hey, look, it’s bath time at the zoo.”

Henry preens himself in the mirror. “I thought that I’d surprise my mother.”

“If you can find her,” Albert jokes.

The other newsboys yelled at him. “Who asked you?”

Albert takes his turn by the mirror. “Papes ain’t movin’ like they used to. I need a new sellin’ spot. Got any ideas?”

“Y’know, from bottle alley to the harbor,” Race chimes in, “there’s easy pickin’s guaranteed.”

Finch yells from across the room. “Try any banker, bum, or barber. They almost all knows how to read!”

Jack confidently strides down to where the rest of the newsboys were, making sure they were ready for the day. “It’s a crooked game we’re playin’, one we’ll never lose. Long as suckers don’t mind payin’ just to get bad news!”

The newsies start racing outside to the square. “Ain’t it a fine life, fellas, carryin’ the banner through it all!” Mush shouts.

“Oh yeah, a mighty fine life, carryin’ the banner tough and tall,” Boots says sarcastically. “When that bell rings, we goes where we wishes, we’s as free as fishes, sure beats washin’ dishes.”

Mush quickly agrees with him. “What a fine life, carryin’ the banner home-free all!”

They pause, waiting for the rest of the city to wake. Finch shuffles over to Crutchie. “Hey, Crutchie. What's your leg say? Gonna rain?”

Crutchie shakes his leg comically. “Ah, no rain…Partly cloudy, clear by evening!”

Finch smacks his arm playfully. “They oughta bottle this guy!”

“Yeah, and the limp sells fifty papes a week all by itself,” Race says.”

Crutchie rolls his eyes. “I don't need the limp to sell papes. I got personality.” He pushes himself off the side of the building he was leaning on, smiling cheekily. “It takes a smile that spreads like butter! The kind that turns a lady’s head!”

“It takes an orphan with a stutter,” Race says.

“Who’s also blind,” says Finch.

“And mute,” says Albert.

“And dead!” Says Elmer.

Jack pushes past them. “Y’know it really stinks workin’ outdoors fellas. Summer stinks and winters’ always freezin’.”

Crutchie nods along. “You start out sweatin’, then end up sneezin’. You never catch a break! And, in between all that, it pours!”

Race runs ahead, arms raised to the sky. “Still, it’s a fine life, carryin’ the banner with me chums! All them big shots are tossin’ freebies to the bums.”

They all stop by the nuns of the local church while they hand out bread and coffee. A frantic mother wanders around, looking for her son. The Newsies don’t say anything, ignoring her, and walk past, breakfast in hand.

Jack and the gang leave the wagon, cross the square, and head for the gates of The World Building, keeping their eyes on the huge blackboards over the street. Newsies of all ages and sizes appear from every conceivable space and line up outside the gates, waiting for them to open, anxiously praying for a good headline to be chalked on the boards overhead.

Jack watches as two men climb up to write the headline. “Alright fellas, remember: you hate the headline, you make up the headline. Say anything you hafta.”

“C’mon…give us an earthquake or a war!” One Newsies mumbles.

“How ‘bout a crooked politician?” Elmer asks.

Jack smacks the back of his head. “Ya nitwit, that ain’t news no more.”

The Newsies watch in anticipation as one of the men writes the headline in large letters, “Trolley Strike Enters Third Week.” They all groan in disappointment as two tough-looking boys, Oscar and Morris Delancey, unlock the gates.

Racetrack covers his nose as if he smelt something bad. “Dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewers may have backed up during the night.”

“Too rotten to be the sewers,” Boots says. “It must be…”

“The Delancey brothers!” Crutchie says.

For revenge, Oscar jerks Snipeshooter out of line and throws him to the ground where he lands roughly. “Inna back, ya ugly little shrimp!”

Oscar and Morris glare at the crowd, daring anyone to do anything about it. Jack calmly grabs Snipe and pulls him up, leading him back to his place in line, then faces the Delanceys who try to stare her down.

“Five to one, I say Cowboy skunks 'em,” Race says. “Who's bettin', who's bettin'?” Everyone shakes their head no.

“You shouldn't be callin' people ugly little shrimps, Oscar,” Jack says. “Unless you're referrin’ to the family resemblance in your brother here.” The brothers glower, look at each other, then back at Jack, who grins at them. “That's right. It's an insult. And so's this–,” Jack deftly reaches out both hands and flips the derbys off both their heads. The brothers scramble for them and chase Jack through the streets.

By the Horace Greely Statue, two boys, David and Les, are just arriving, hurrying towards the gates on a collision course with Jack who comes barrelling around the statue and runs smack into David. For a moment, everything stops. Jack catches her breath, and David looks at her in outrage.

“Watch it, will ya? What do you think you're doing?” David asks.

Jack smiles cheekily at him. “Runnin’!” She speeds on just as the Delancey brothers come thundering around the statue, bowling David to the pavement. Les looks at Jack as if he's watching Robin Hood.

She keeps running, keeping just out of the Delanceys' grasp, but then she trips and they've got her. Morris lifts her high into the air to smash her onto the cobblestones. The crowd of newsboys stops breathing but then Jack grabs the bars and like a monkey jerks free of the bully's grasp. The kids howl, loving the show as Jack avoids the brothers moving from bar to bar like Tarzan.

The moment is broken when a bell inside the World Building rings out. The Delancey brothers reluctantly, give up the chase, and head back towards the entrance to the World gates where the Newsies arrive at the distribution windows.

“We ain't finished with you yet, Kelly,” Morris sneers.

Jack still hangs on the gate as the gatekeeper unlocks them and they swing open.

“Ride 'em, cowboy!” Boots hollers.

Newsies yell out Jack's name as she rides the gates 'til the last possible moment, then leaps into the back of a wagon. Jack takes a bow as the boys cheer, moving into line.

Newsies jostle for position at the window, David shoving and jostling like the rest. He manages to elbow in near the front. Les, hanging back, has his eyes on Jack sauntering coolly to her natural place at the head of the line, flanked by Boots and Mush. She leans on the counter and grins at the rodent-faced man inside the window. “Ya miss me, Weasel?” She asks.

The man grumbles at her. “You know my name. It's Weisel. Mister Weisel to you. How many?”

She looks at him in mock offense. “Don't rush me, I'm perusin' the merchandise…Mr. Weasel.” The Newsies love it as Jack deliberately takes a paper, turns it, and scans it. Seeing Les staring at her, Jack winks. Les smiles back, fascinated. Jack turns back to Weasel with a fifty-cent piece. “The usual,” she slams the coin on the counter.

“A hundred papes for the wise guy,” Mr. Weisel says.

Oscar slams the papers down and Jack takes the time to count them as Race makes his way up to the window. “How’s it goin’, Weasel?” Racetrack says.

“At least call me ‘mister’,” is the response he gets.

“Ooh, well I’ll call you sweetheart if you’d spot me fifty papes.” Race gets a laugh out of the rest of the Newsies.

Weisel grumbles. “Drop the cash and move it along.”

Racetrack laughs. “Whatever happened to romance?”

“Fifty for the Race! Next!” Weisel shouts.

Suddenly a commotion at the window breaks out as Weisel gets upset at David. “Ya got ya papes, move outta here.”

David looks up at him in confusion. “I paid for twenty, you only gave me nineteen!”

“You callin' me a liar, kid...?”

The Delanceys start for David when suddenly Jack steps up and takes David’s papers, counting them quickly. “Nineteen, Weasel,” Jack sighs. “An honest mistake…On account of Oscar can't count to twenty with his shoes on.”

Weasel glowers and has the Delanceys give him the missing paper.

“Hold it,” Jack complains. Race, spot me two-bits.” Race flips her a coin and Jack slaps it on the counter. “Another fifty for my friend here.”

“I don't want another fifty!” David complains.

Jack moves away from the counter as the papers are placed there. “Sure you do. Every newsie wants more papes.”

David, puzzled, grabs the papers, and he and Les run after Jack. The gang trails along, watching, amused. “These papers are yours,” David complains. “I don't take charity from nobody! I don't even know who you are.”

“Cowboy!” Les yells. “They call him Cowboy!”

Jack turns and grins at Les. “That and a lotta other things, including Jack Kelly, which is what my mudder called me. What do they call you, kid?”

“Les. This is David, he's my brother. He's older.” He gestures offhandedly to David standing next to him.

Jack barely glances at David. “No kiddin'. How old are you, Les?”

“I’m ten…Almost.”

Jack tisks. “No good. Anybody asks, you're seven. Younger sells more papes, Les, and if we're gonna be partners–”

David looks at her in confusion. “Hold it! Who said anything about partners?”

Jack finally acknowledges David. “You owe me two bits, right? Okay, so I consider it an investment. We sell together, split 70-30, plus you get the benefit of observin' me -- no charge.”

“Sellin’ with Jack is the chance of a lifetime,” Crutchie chimes in. “You learn from him, you learn from the best.”

“If he's the best, then why does he need us?” David asks.

Jack rolls her eyes. “I don't need you, pal. But I ain't got a cute little brother to front for me. And Les here…,” she smiles down at Les who smiles back up. “With this kid's puss and my God-given talent, we can easy move a thousand papers a week. Whattaya say? Deal?”

Les looks up pleadingly but David still looks apprehensive.

“C’mon, Davey. My two bits come off the top, and we split everything 70-30.”

“50-50!” Les says. “You wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on a little kid, would ya?”

Jack looks down at him impressed. “Sixty-forty. Or I forget the whole t'ing.”

David reluctantly offers his hand. Jack spits in her palm and shakes. “Newsies, hit the streets,” she yells. “The sun is up, the headline stinks, and this kid ain’t getting’ any younger!”

The Newsies all start to split off. Les whoops as they move off and Jack is already playing mentor. “The name of the game is volume, Dave. You only took twenty papes. Why?”

“Bad headline?” David says.

“First t'ing you gotta learn: headlines don't sell papes, Newsies sell papes. We're what holds this town together. Without newsies, nobody knows nuttin'!” Jack leads David and Les through an open-air market crowded with carts and people. “Some newsies got corners, see–same spot, same customers. Me, I like to keep moving, enjoy the life of the big city. I spot an opportunity, I sell a pape. That's the advantage of being an independent businessman, instead of workin' for wages.”

David goes off, trying to sell his papers. “Paper. Paper. Trolley strike drags on!” He gets no takers as everyone walks away from him.

Jack laughs at him and snatches the paper. “Sing ‘em to sleep why dontcha? Extra! Extra! Terrified flight from burnin’ inferno! You heard the story right here!” Several people come up to buy a copy from her.

“What?” David asks. “Where’s that story?”

“Page nine–thank you, sir. 'Thousands flee in panic.”

David flips to page nine. “‘Trash fire near immigration building frightens seagulls?’”

Jack keeps selling. “'Terrified flight from flaming inferno!' Thank you, much obliged.”

“Our father taught us not to lie,” David complains.

Jack looks at him blankly. “Yeah? Mine taught me not to starve. So we both got an education.”

“You just make things up, like those headlines.”

“I don't do nothin' the guys who write this stuff don't do. It ain't lyin'. It's just improvin' the truth a little.”

Les comes running back, empty-handed. “Hey! I just sold my last paper!”

David grabs him. “Hold it–I smell beer.”

“The guy bet me I wouldn't drink some. Gave me a quarter for it too!”

“Hey, no drinkin' on the job,” Jack tells him with a smile, “it's bad for business. What if somebody called a cop or somethin'?” Les nods back in understanding.

David looks at the paper in his hand. “I still got one more.”

“Sell it or pay for it,” Jack tells him.

“Give it here,” Les snatches the paper and sidles up to a woman passing by, and puts the saddest look on his face. “Buy a paper from a poor orphan boy?” He coughs gently.

The woman looks at him sadly. “Oh, you dear thing. Of course, I’ll take a newspaper. Here’s a dime.” She hands him the coin in exchange for the paper and walks off.

Suddenly, they hear someone shouting nearby. Jack turns to see a police officer being directed towards them by Snyder the Spider, the man who runs the Refuge.

“There he is, officer,” Snyder says. “Do your duty!”

“Beat it–it’s the bulls!” Jack yells and she races off. David, confused, races after her, Les looks very worried as he runs with David. They pound down the alley, Snyder and the officer round the corner behind them.

Snyder shouts at them. “You, Sullivan! Stop, I say! You hear me, Sullivan?”

“Who’s Sullivan?” David asks.

“Mistaken identity,” Jack tells them. “All micks look alike to these birds!”

They clatter up several flights of stairs, Snyder and the officer clattering up below them, shouting, “You young miscreant! Wait'll I get you back to the Refuge!”

“The Refuge?” David says.

“Sleeper!” She yells and leaps over a sleeping man on the stairwell, and so do David and Les as they run out onto more sleepers; people living in makeshift shelters. Jack runs to a plank stretched between two buildings.

“I'm not crossing that!” David yells. “Anyway, I don't think they're chasing us–.”

Jack scoops up Les, who's loving it, and carries him across the plank. “No? What're they doin' then?”

“I think they're chasing you!”

Snyder and MacSwain huff out onto the roof. David, still uncertain, looks back at them, then runs across the plank. Jack calmly topples the plank to the street as the pursuers reach it, gasping for breath. She gives Snyder a little salute, then moves on to a rooftop exit.

They run out of a doorway onto the street. Jack stops and looks around carefully as if expecting Snyder to come bounding out of the sky. David is bursting with suspicion and starts to say something, but Jack shushes him, and leads them quickly, furtively to a side door, she opens it, waving David and Les inside. She follows, giving a quick look around before she closes the door.

[ricardo-irving]

He could feel the priestess's judgmental eyes boring into him and it, unfortunately, was something he was intimately familiar with. Not that it made Ricardo feel any better, of course. The businessman squared his shoulders, doing the best he could to keep a relatively neutral expression despite having one of the worst poker faces in the world.

"I don't doubt ya." He did.

Ricardo's eyebrows rose slightly under his greasy hair as the woman circled him like a shark. He knew she was sizing him up. What was it with the religious types that always held such an air of superiority to those that had no use for it? However, the "pious" types also had very, very deep pockets.

When she brought out the name Oswell Spencer, the businessman could scarcely hold back a laugh. "Yeayea, I'm familiah with the name," he told her. "Very familiah." What felt like ages ago, he also had another person reach out to him to leak the location of Spencer's whereabouts to a certain blond-haired, sunglasses-wearing individual and Ricardo had taken as much money from the bastard as he could, mentioning something about just how dangerous it was to get this information out there and that he was putting his life on the line.

How little did he know at the time that that was exactly what had happened.

Ricardo scoffed at her insult. "Listen, lady, I ain't scum. You're woikin' with the best of the best heyah. I'll getcha your Brandon Bailey. Why, I'll even bring him to ya with a ribbon tied around his neck if ya want." He took the folder from her as he flipped through it. He'd read it eventually so he could get an idea of this corporation. He had heard of the Connections, but they really started to get popular in the black market after the Kijuju Incident. "I might know a thing or two about them."

Sea blue eyes focused on the vial in the woman's hand. On the surface, it didn't look like anything impressive. Mold. What was so great about it? Still, if there was money to be made, Ricardo would make a pitch detailing its greatness. He wasn't above that.

The businessman held his hand out to accept the vial and store it someplace safe while he'd find the contact Miranda was wanting. "I can do that, but ya gotta sell me on it foist. Don'tcha go tossin' me out in the wilds without tellin' me what's so great about it. I wanna know so I can tell them the same spiel."

If she was not feeling as if she was going nowhere at all with all that she has done within her life and the work she was doing, she would not lessen herself to stand before such a worthless little fish that needed to be tossed within the water, how worthless he was, inferior as well, a lesser version of her own son back home, once more, her work has been taken and they have failed to improve it or even understand it.

“You hold doubt?”

As she circled him, oh, she could smell it, sense it, hear it, feel it when she touched his head and how it did shudder at the touch of something so much more than the inferiority that plagued the world right now, she was something else, something that has managed to become perfect with her own work and understanding of what she had found over a hundred years ago, to watch them within the world fail to even come close to her own work and creations, if he truly wished to see what she could offer, the village welcomes worthless beings such as himself, with open arms always, as she would smirk and walk around him once more.

“Yes.” As she confirmed and watched him step up. “A friend and partner of Oswell E. Spencer.”

Did he need a history lesson, in who Spencer was and what he had done within the world, or did he wish for more, how she had crossed paths with him, saved his life, healed him, treated him and showed him her work and aided him to create his company with her own research to hope that one day he would be able to help her for what she had done, but it hardly even worked that way, seeing that his company had fallen and he had been murdered, a pity truly as she wished to have seen him one more time.

“He has fallen, hiding within the criminal underworld, it is why I came to you, scum ought to be able to find filth? Correct?” As she slanted her head to the side and would hand him across a folder with all the information she had. “The connections.” As she spoke the name of the company this man runs right now. “Maybe you have come across their products, maybe not, they are quite inferior, but go to them and offer them something more, offer them my services and I am sure, they will leap at the chance.” as she moved her hand, taking out a small vile that held a single piece of darkness within it, the mold.

“Show them this, they will agree once they understand what it is and what it can do for them.”

[intricatechaosofyou]

Chapter Three: Carrying the Banner

As Laces came down the stairs, she could already hear the chaos. It wasn't a morning in the lodging house if there wasn't chaos. Although it wasn't her favorite thing in the world, Laces had learned to live with it.

"Hey! That's my cigar!"

Race glared at Albert who just shrugged and just replied with a,

"You'll steal another."

That's when Henry came out of the bathroom, shaving what little facial hair he had. Specs tried his best not to laugh.

"Hey, look, it's bath time at the zoo."

Henry shrugged and continued dragging the razor blade across his cheek.

"I thought that I'd surprise my mother."

Albert scoffed and crossed his arms.

"If you can find her..."

Every single newsie in the vicinity of the conversation, including Laces, shouted in retaliation.

"Who asked you?!"

Albert ignored the outraged comment. "Papes ain't selling like they used to. I need a new spot. Ya got any ideas?"

Race thought for a second before offering up his suggestions.

"From Bottle Alley to the harbor,

there's easy pickings guaranteed."

Finch nodded in agreement and added on,

"Try any banker, bum, or barber!

They almost all knows how to read."

Jack was still buttoning up his blue shirt as he came down the stairs from the rooftop.

"It's a crooked game we're playin'

one we'll never lose.

Long as suckers don't mind payin'

just to get bad news"

As they finished getting ready, the newsies all banded together. They threw their arms around each other as they all sang.

"Ain't it a fine life,

carryin' the banner through it all?

A mighty fine life,

carryin' the banner tough and tall.

When the bell rings,

we goes where we wishes.

We's as free as fishes

Sure beats washing dishes!

What a fine life,

carryin' the banner home-free all!"

As the newsies hit the street, Romeo started his usual antics. His victim today was a young woman in a purple dress who was walking with a nervous-looking man.

"Well, hello, hello, hello, beautiful." He smirked as he eyed the very uncomfortable lady.

"Woah, Romeo. Nothing more concerns you here," Jack interjected, shoving the younger boy away. He took Romeo's spot and flashed the woman a charming smile. "Mornin', miss. Might I interest you in the latest news?"

"The paper isn't out yet," the woman argued trying to push past Jack.

"Oh, I'd be delighted to deliver it to you poisonally."

The woman's friend tried to step up to say something, but the woman stopped him and took the matter into her own hands. "I've got a headline for you: Cheeky boy gets nothing for his troubles." With a small, victorious smile at Jack's frown, she and her companion continued on their way.

Laces barely contained her laughter. "Back to the bench slugger!" She shouted. "Ya struck out!"

"I'm crushed!" He laughed, putting a hand over his heart in fake hurt.

"Hey Crutchie, what your leg say? Gonna rain?" Finch asked.

Crutchie shook his leg before arriving at a conclusion. "No rain. Oh-hoh! Partly cloudy, clear by evenin'!"

"They oughta bottle this guy!"

"And the limp sells fifty papes a week, all by itself!" Race smiled and slapped Crutchie's shoulder.

"I don't need the limp to sell papes," Crutchie protested with a playful smile. "I've got poisonality."

"It takes a smile that spreads like butter.

The kind that turns a lady's head."

Race, Finch, Albert, and Elmer, of course made the situation more dramatic.

"It takes an orphan with a stutter,

who's also blind

and mute

and dead!"

Laces and Crutchie laughed at their antics as they followed along with the other newsies towards the circulation gates.

"Summer stinks and winter's freezing

when you works outdoors.

Start out sweating, end up sneezing.

In between it pours!

Still, it's a fine life

carryin' the banner with me chums.

A bunch of big shots

tossin' out a freebie to the bums"

Finch pushed his way to the front of the group, impatient to get his papers.

"Hey! What's the hold up?

Waitin' makes me antsy.

I likes living chancey."

The rest of the group rolled their eyes.

"Harlem to Delancey!

What a fine life

carryin' the banner through the-"

Like every day, the newsies were met with the sight of the nuns from the local church. They offered the group cups of water and stale bread crusts. It wasn't much, but on bad days it was all they got.

"Blessed children,

though you wander lost and depraved

Jesus loves you.

You shall be saved!"

"Thanks for the grub, sista!" Elmer shouted, waving his hat at the nuns.

One of the older nuns glared at the boy. "Elmer, when will we be seeing you inside the church?"

"Ise don't know." Elmer shrugged and smirked. "But it's bound to rain sooner or later!" Before the nun could say anything else, Elmer rushed off.

Continuing towards the circulation gate, the chatter didn't die down between the newsies.

"Curdled-

Just give me half a cup.

-coffee.

Something to wake me up.

Concrete donuts-

I gotta find an angle.

-sprinkled with mold.

It's gettin' bad out there.

Homemade-

Papers is all I got.

It's eighty-eight degrees!

-biscuits-

Jack says to change my spot.

Wish I could catch a breeze.

-just two-

Maybe it's worth a shot.

-years old!

All I can catch is fleas!"

Jack smirked as he led the boys through the streets.

"If I hate the headline,

I'll make up a headline."

Laces and Crutchie stood to his sides, joking and throwing fake punches at each other. Although the trip to the circulation gates was long, they always found ways to entertain themselves on the walk.

"And I'll say anything I hafta.

'Cause at two for a penny,

if I take too many,

Weasel just makes me eat 'em afta."

Romeo and Race joined the trio in their play fighting, shoving each other as they walked down the street.

"Got a feelin' bout the headline.

I smells me a headline

Papes is gonna sell like we was givin' 'em away.

Betcha dinner it's a doozy

'bout a pistol-packing floozey

Who knows how to make a newsie's day.

You wanna move the next edition.

Give us an earthquake or a war."

Elmer pulled off his cap and raised his right hand.

"How 'bout a crooked politician?"

The rest of the newsies rolled their eyes and hit him with their own caps.

"Ya nitwit, that ain't news no more!

Uptown to Grand Central Station

down to City Hall.

We improves our circulation

walking till we fall

But we'll be out there

Carrying the banner man to man!

We're always out there

soakin' every sucker that we can!

See the headline:

Newsies on a mission!

Kill the competition,

sell the next edition.

We'll be out there, carryin' the banner!

See us out there, carryin' the banner!

Always out there, carryin' the banner!"

Finally, the newsies arrived at the circulation gates. They peered through the bars as they waited for the headline.

"I hope it's real bloody with a nice clear picture," Specs commented.

The others shouted their approval when Finch pointed out they were putting up the headline. Everyone held their breath as the man wrote out the words "Trolley Strike Drags on for Third Week."

Everyone groaned at the sight of the headline. Laces ran a hand over her face. She couldn't believe that this was the best story those writers could come up with. As the boys complained, the Delancey brothers made their way over to unlock the gate.

Race smirked and leaned against the rusting metal. "Oh, dear me. What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewers might have backed up in the middle of the night."

"Nah. Too rotten to be sewers," Crutchie joked as Laces nodded her agreement. "It must be..."

"The Delancey brothers!" The newsies hollered, smirking as the gate finally opened.

"Hey, Oscar. I hear you and ya brother took up jobs beating up strikin' trolley workers," Finch commented, walking into the circulation area.

Oscar glared at the gutsy newsies and shrugged. "So? It's honest work."

"Crackin' the heads of defenseless workers?" Albert asked incredulously.

"I take care of the guy who takes care a' me."

Race sneered and got up in the boy's face. "Ain't ya father one a' the workers?"

"I guess he didn't take care of me!" Oscar growled, shoving Race back.

Suddenly, Morris walked up to Crutchie. "Ya want some of this, too? Ya lousy crip!" Ripping the crutch from the boy's grip, Morris shoved him to the ground.

Laces immediately helped Crutchie up while Jack snatched the crutch back from Morris. "Now, that is not nice, Morris!"

"Five ta one, Jacky and Laces soak 'em! Huh, who's bettin'?" Race shouted.

The rest of the newsies rolled their eyes replying, "Bum odds!"

"Now, one of these days, you might find yourself with a bum gim of ya own. How would you like it if wese picked on ya?" Jack questioned.

"Hey? Why don't we find out?" Laces interjected. At her words, Jack used the crutch to hit both of the brothers in the knees, knocking them to the ground.

"Oh, just wait 'till I get my hands on you two!" Oscar growled, trying to grab for Laces. Luckily, she jumped out his way before he could get ahold of her.

Jack smirked and grabbed Laces' arm. "You gotta catch us first!" The two taunted before running off with the Delanceys close on their tails.

The other newsies cheered them on as they ran around the paper wagons.

Not looking where she was going, Laces collided with someone. Barely managing to stay on her feet, she looked at the person she ran into. He looked about her age—and handsome, too.

"What're you doing?" He questioned, tilting his head.

Laces would have taken her time to appreciate how concerned his tone was if it weren't for the footsteps of the Delancey's behind her. "Runnin'!" She shouted before taking off again, leaving the boy dazed and confused.

She met up again with Jack and the two managed to evade the brothers, taking twists and turns through the familiar alleyways of New York before they landed right back at the circulation gates and returned the crutch to their friend.

"We'll all be out there

carryin' the banner man to man!

We're always out there

soakin' every sucker that we can

Here's the headline:

Newsies on a mission!

Kill the competition,

sell the next edition.

We'll be out there, carryin' the banner!

See us out there, carryin' the banner!

Always out there, carryin' the banner!

Ah, ah, ah, go!"

The newsies laughed and joked at the Delanceys' expense as Jack approached the stand to get his papers. "Weasel! Did'cha miss me?"

Weasel rolled his eyes and grumbled. "I told ya a million times. The name's Weisel."

"Ain't that what I said? I'll take the usual," Jack replied, slamming his coin onto the box.

"Hundred papes for the wise guy," Weasel jeered before turning to Laces who was currently skimming through the paper that sat on the edge of the counter. "You want the usual, too?"

"Don't rush me! I'm perusing the merchandise, Mr. Weseal." She made a show of reading the paper for a few more seconds before adding her fifty cents to the box. "Yup. Usual."

Oscar handed her the bundle of papers and she smirked at him. "Good chase today, Delancey. You was closer to catchin' us today."

The boy flushed scarlet at the taunt and was about to yell before he was interrupted by his uncle. "Well, look at this. A new kid."

Turning on her heel, Laces saw that it was the boy she ran into while running from Oscar. Now that she wasn't running for her life, she took her time to size him up. His dark brown hair was mostly covered by his cap and his nose was slightly crooked. He was at least half a foot taller than Laces and didn't slouch. His shirt was tucked in and free of wrinkles. He looked too proper and educated to be a newsie, but who was Laces to judge?

She was almost too busy scrutinizing the boy to notice the younger boy, presumably his brother, poking his head out from behind him.

"I'm new too!" The younger boy proudly proclaimed.

Race sent a fake smile his way. "Don't worry kid. It rubs right off."

"I'll take twenty newspapers please," the boy said, pushing his brother back behind him.

Weasel stared at the boy expectantly. "Let's see the dime."

Confused, the boy tilted his head. "I'll pay you when I sell them." The rest of the newsies laughed at this statement.

"Funny, kid. Cash up front."

"But whatever I don't sell, you buy back, right?" The boy was obviously new, and Laces pitied him for being so clueless.

"Certainly! And every time you lose a tooth, I put a penny under ya pillow. Now drop the cash and move it along!" The boy held up the dime and put it in the box as Weasel turned to the next boy. "Albert! Let me see your money!"

As Albert continued to mock Weasel, the new kid thumbed through his papers. Laces watched him curiously, wondering what he was doing.

"Excuse me? I paid for twenty but I only got nineteen," the new boy piped up, interrupting Weasel and Albert's conversation.

"You see how nice I was to this new kid? And what do I get in return? Ungrounded accusations."

The boy took a step back, pulling his little brother further behind him. "I just want what I paid for."

"He said beat it," Morris growled.

That was the moment Laces went up to the boy, Jack hot on her heels, and snatched the papers from his hand. She counted the papers as the boy anxiously fiddled with the strap of his bag.

"Hold on! New kid's right, Weasel. There's only nineteen. Don't worry though. I'm sure it's an honest mistake seeing as Morris here can't count to twenty with his shoes on," she jested, taking a small step back as Morris attempted to grab her through the metal bars that separated them.

With minimal grumbling Weasel shoved a paper into the new kid's hands. "Here! Now take a hike!"

"Hold it!" Jack interrupted, putting another coin into the box. "Give the new kid fifty new papes."

"I don't want more papes."

Every newsie's head popped up and looked in the direction of the new kid. That was the dumbest thing any of them had ever heard (and they all knew Race). Jack ignored the comment and shoved the papers into the boy's arms.

"What kind a' newsie don't want more papes?" Laces asked with wide eyes.

"I'm no charity case. I don't know either of you," the new kid protested looking between Laces and Jack, trying to give the extra papers back.

"His name's Jack! And that's Laces," The younger boy piped up, staring at the pair in awe.

"Yeah, this here is the famous Jack Kelly. He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. Made all the papes," Crutchie explained with a smirk. "And she's Laces. Best newsie 'Hatten has."

"He has to say that. He taught me everything I know. Now how old are you?" Laces asked as she kneeled down to look at the younger boy.

"I'm ten!" He proclaimed proudly before backtracking. "Well, almost."

Jack frowned and rubbed his chin. "If anyone asks, you should say you're seven. You see, younger sells more papers. And if we're gonna be partners we-"

"Who said we wanted partners?" The elder brother interrupted, crossing his arms.

Crutchie scoffed and nudged the boy. "Are you kidding? Selling with Jack and Laces is the chance of a lifetime! If you learn from them, you learn from the best."

Laces looked down at the ground, smiling sheepishly at the comment. Cructhie had been the one to teach her how to be a newsie when she was just six years old. She owed all her skills to him. But she couldn't deny that she and Jack were usually the first ones to finish selling their papes—and with the biggest tips.

"If they're the best, then what do they need with me?"

Jack glared at the boy. "We don't need you, pal. But you have a little brother and we don't. With his puss, we could easily peddle a thousand papes a week. Hey, look sad, kid," Jack ordered, turning his attention to the boy.

He immediately pouted his lips and tilted his head. He looked absolutely miserable.

Laces laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. "Oh! We're gonna make millions! Say, what's your name, kid?"

"I'm Les! This is my brother David. He's older."

Laces faked a gasp and looked up at David. "No kidding."

"Nice ta meet ya, Davey! My two bits come off the top. We split the rest seventh-thirty and-"

"Fifty-fifty!" Les demanded, dropping Jack in his tracks. "You wouldn't try to pull a fast one on a little kid!"

Laces tried her best to contain a giggle as Jack turned to Les with wide eyes. It took him a second to regain his composure after the bold comment.

"Sixty-fourty. And that is my final offer."

Les looked to Davey for approval. With a sigh, Davey nodded and Les turned back to Jack with a big smile. "Deal."

Smirking, Jack spit into his palm and held it out to Les who copied Jack's actions before shaking his hand.

"That's disgusting," Davey commented, causing Crutchie and Laces to burst into laughter.

"That's just business. Newsies, hit the streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks, and this kid ain't getting any younger!" Jack proclaimed as the newsies followed his orders.

"We'll all be out there

carryin' the banner man to man!

We're always out there

soakin' every sucker that we can

Here's the headline:

Newsies on a mission!

Kill the competition,

sell the next edition.

We'll be out there, carryin' the banner!

See us out there, carryin' the banner!

Always out there, carryin' the banner!

Ah, ah, ah, go!"

[queenxxxsupreme]

Agreeable (Arthur Morgan x preg!reader)

A/N: So this takes place during chapter 4 at Shady Belle. It’s around the second trimester for anyone wanting to know the time frame. This could be read as a prequel to any of my dad!Arthur fics :)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: pregnant reader, mentions of pregnancy, Arthur is a fussy baby daddy

Summary: Arthur insists that you get more sleep, but you only agree to do so if he does the same. 

***

You hummed as you made your way towards one of the tables that rested at the center of camp. You placed the book in your hand down on the table. 

“What are you doin’ up so early, missy?” Susan asked as she joined you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You offered her a little smile. 

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the last three days, Miss Y/L/N. You should still stay in bed. Try to rest.”

“I’ll drive myself crazy sittin’ up there starin’ at the walls.” You shook your head as you opened the book. 

“You’re gonna drive Arthur crazy is what you’re gonna do.” She took a puff from her cigarette.

“Where is he anyways?” You looked around camp, knowing very well you wouldn’t find him. 

“He’s with John. Dutch sent them out early this morning when it was still dark out.”

“Well, I better go get those girls up.” Mrs. Grimshaw sighed as she stood up and made her way towards the house. 

The sun was just peeking over the horizon. You enjoyed the warm rays that seemed to shine through the trees and hit you. It wasn’t muggy yet. The air wasn’t too suffocating, so it wasn’t a pleasant and welcoming warmth. 

A hand came to rest between your shoulder blades. You turned your head to see Arthur standing behind you. 

“Arthur.” You smiled.

“Mornin’, pumpkin.” He leaned down to kiss your temple. His other hand slipped down to your stomach. “Shouldn’t you still be in bed?”

“Everyone else is waking up.”

“Everyone else wasn’t awake tossin’ and turnin’ like you were last night.” Arthur kissed the top of your head. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You stood up and let him guide you with a hand on the small of your back.

“You are going back to bed while I go out with Charles.” 

You stopped abruptly, turning your head to look at Arthur. 

“I don’t want to go back to bed.”

“I’m sure you don’t, but that little one inside you must be exhausted. You ain’t been sleepin’ well and that isn’t good for ‘em.”

“Well you aren’t sleeping either. That can’t be good for them either.”

“That don’t make a lick of sense.” He continued to try to coax you into the house but you refused to move. 

“Sure it does. You are their daddy after all.”

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes darted around as if to see if anyone heard you. It wasn’t like the whole camp didn’t know about the unborn addition to the gang. 

“That don’t mean anything, Y/N.”

“Of course it does.” You put your hand on his arm. “You’re bonded to them too.”

His blue eyes looked down at you, furrowed together. 

“Why can’t you just go to bed like I asked?”

“Why can’t you?” You countered, placing your hands on your hips. “Where’s Charles? I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh brother.” Arthur rubbed his eyes as you began to walk away from him. 

“He’s the only one with sense around here, I swear.”

“Pumpkin, I just want you to rest some more while I go do some work.”

You waved a hand at him dismissively. 

Your eyes landed on your target. He sat at one of the fires with Javier and Sean. 

“Charles!” 

“Haha! You’re in trouble, buddy!” Sean laughed, clapping a hand down on Charles’s shoulder. Charles turned his head to glare at the Irish lad. 

“Charles, I’d just like to speak with you for a moment.”

“Of course, Y/N.” 

You turned to move away from the fire, wanting some privacy away from the nosey camp members. 

Arthur stepped out of your way as you moved towards him with no intentions of going around him. He shook his head in disbelief. Of course you’d cause such a ruckus so early in the morning over nothing. 

“M’sorry, Charles. I tried to stop her, but you know how she is.”

“What did you do this time, Arthur?”

“He’s being stubborn.” You turned to face the two men. “What is it you two are going to do?”

“Just a little hunting over near Catfish Jackson.” Charles answered. 

“Arthur didn’t sleep last night–,”

“I slept just fine.”

“He didn’t, Charles.” You shook your head. “It’s still pretty early. I’d like it if he sleeps for at least another hour or so. Would you mind holding off on your hunting trip?”

“We can always go tonight.” Charles offered, eyes flickering back to Arthur. “No harm in waiting.”

Arthur let out a sigh.

“Thank you, Charles.” You gave him a smile. “If only Arthur was as agreeable as you.”

Arthur huffed.

“Charles ain’t always agreeable.”

“He is with me.”

“That’s cause he’s a gentleman. Don’t like to tell a lady no.”

“It’s a shame he doesn’t rub some of that off on to you.” You began to make your way towards the house. “Come on, Arthur Morgan. Don’t make me start usin’ your middle name.”

“You drive me crazy, woman.” Arthur sighed, placing his hand on the small of your back as he walked alongside you. 

“Maybe you should be more agreeable.” You grinned a little, looking over your shoulder at him. 

“I can be agreeable.” He grumbled. He watched your feet as you moved up the creaky staircase of Shady Belle. “If I remember correctly, that’s how we got into this…. predicament. You wanted your back rubbed. I agreed.”

“A back rub doesn’t include you taking off my clothes.” You reminded him, glancing over your shoulder. “You’re the one who did that.”

He grinned mischievously. 

“Yeah, I did.”

You continued up the stairs together. 

“How are you feelin’ now? Your legs hurtin’ like they were yesterday?”

“No, not yet.” You shook your head. 

Arthur pushed the door to your shared room open. 

“They usually only start hurting when a storm is coming. The rain and the clouds, or something like that.” 

“Something like that.” He repeated. “When do you think we should go shoppin’ for baby clothes?”

“Probably before the baby is born.” You sat down on the edge of the bed. You rubbed the side of your stomach, looking down. 

“It’s too early to start gettin’ clothes, ain’t it?” Arthur began to unlace your shoes. 

“Well, I suppose not. If we get time, perhaps we’ll go into Saint Denis and see what we can find.”

Once your shoes were off and placed aside, Arthur kicked off his boots and joined you in bed. 

“If I wake up and find that you aren’t in this bed, Arthur Morgan–,”

“I know, I know.” He cut you off, tucking his nose into your neck. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, pumpkin.” 

“Good.”

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday @micahs-bird and @cherryfrosting (I hope that was the account you wanted me to tag)

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[dyshonor]

-- RANDAL HAS TO RESIST the urge to laugh at Griss's blatant thievery, only to ultimately fail as the critter wiggles out of Griss's grasp and scrambles up to Randal. He stifles it with the flesh of his palm.

"Rightly so, kid. Just a little tossin' n' grabbin'. You're the honorable sort; stealin' ain't even a word in your dictionary." He hoists the creature up like one would a sack of rice, the Brackub scurrying up his shoulders and behind his hair. His new friend blinks slowly at him. "Don't beat yourself up over it," Randal adds, "I've got a few more years of suave left in me. Can be hard t'compete with a man in his prime!"

As he scratches the creature's head, the ball that hovers ever-by Griss's side crackles to life once more:

CONNARD. THE LAUGHING FIEND. MAGIC TYPE. THERE'S NOTHING THAT CONNARDS ENJOY MORE THAN A GOOD LAUGH, AND THE SOUND OF THEIR LAUGHTER, ESPECIALLY WHEN IN A PACK, CAN GET TO BE QUITE LOUD. THEY ENJOY TRICKS AND MISCHIEF, THOUGH ALWAYS IN GOOD NATURE.

"The laughin' sort, huh?" Randal muses, tickling the Connard's chin. "No wonder you an' I get along. Peas in a pod."

It's as he's doing so that the Connard deposits not one, but two things in hand: a few sticks of incense, and a slip of paper.

ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner! - emcee

Randal opens his mouth, closes it. Given the Connard's nature, it could be a trick- or an advantage, if Randal could figure out what the hell this implied. One way or another, it was nothing that good ol' Griss needed to be bothered about.

He clicks his tongue and slides the paper strip down his sleeve in the same motion that he waves the sticks in the air.

"If any more o' those critters takes a more violent disliking ta ya, we've got some smellin' salts," Randal notes, following Griss towards the end they had neglected earlier.

He intends to strike up conversation- like any winning streak is want to do, catching the creatures has put him in a nicer mood than most, and Griss is nothing if not entertaining- but before he's able to, the two of them are buffeted by a wind that threatens to knock them off their feet. Randal catches the back of his foot on the ground, but just the act of doing so threatens to have him lose his balance.

The Connard in his arms chirps in distress, and when Randal looks up, he catches sight of its intent: yet another Connard, clinging to debris.

"Well, Ser!" Randal calls out. "The gods are fortunate with their blessings! If y-" he coughs on the wind. "Yer fond of wind magic yourself, no?"

gambler and hound

happyland 2024: week two (south island)

[st-feathers]

i guess i'll never really become myself as long as i live in these lame white walls. they'll keep throwing darts at all my fingers so effortlessly that they don't even notice, and then they'll get shocked when I don't want to caress their heads. do they want their hair to get all tangled? unfortunately it's a learned trait, one that will hopefully die with them and their darts collection. at least i hope so. my aim is terrible.

i guess i'm tossin', and turnin'!!! i'm decomposing in here. every day that passes i feel a little more like a dead plant than the one before. the chair stinks so hard yet i wish i didn't have to constantly get up and down for that, of all things. i want to take every single one of those silly cardboard boxes that get past the gates every 30 minutes and smash them so hard i'll scare their younger cousins away.

i don't know where to clean,, i have to make my mind up. between my rubbish'n psychic puke!!! i can't read anymore, i don't understand any single sentence in there. i'd fill your silly little phones with complaints if i had no regards for your personal time. i can't do everything on my own here. legal babble is like a lifted truck for bald men who think crossing their arms is a sign of power. pig latin and a love for fancy black ties. i want the wiggly cursive back

at last! a gentle lady taught me that i'm a plant, yet not an entirely dead one. plants actually hate your basic empty void thing and Marie Kondo ruined an entire generation of moms. plants hoard and try to fill their grave with water to hang out with their plushies a bit more than planned because if i have to plant my roots here i want to sing and make a little silly cave with my little silly roommates i saved from various poorly lit basements. it's going well, i'll become a very nice tree and the broadcast poster will love it for sure. i need to hug tigger again and let him tell me that i'm actually doing good. the darts are lying and deep down i know they are but it's hard to admit. my little cave is very good and it will follow me inside new wall mazes whenever that'll have to happen. let's have a toast for the colourful walls cause we're going to fucking obliterate this mediocrity void. keep on drivin'!! and be the plant you deserve to be

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms

Prologue- part 1?

Read this first:

This story contains graphic depictions on drug use implying overdose, child neglect, starvation, outright violence and major character death.

Possible future chapters will include trauma, grave digging, claustrophobia, murder, emotional manipulation, and child abuse. Will add more if they occur.

Please take of yourself and avoid this if you have any of these triggers, this fic is going to be a Lot of angst before anything gets even remotely better.

~---~

The first time they switched, it only happened for a minute. Whatever magic in the universe that created the soulmate connection was benevolent enough to wait until the younger of any pair turned six before a first switch could occur. Just old enough to be able to speak and communicate with the world around them, but young enough to establish a fast bond. Of course, the first few swaps were always quick. Just enough to let you know your other half was out there and alive without adding unnecessary mental strain from such a new experience.

Marinette had only turned six just that morning when she came to in a boy's body, standing in a bathroom and looking down at a woman slumped in the bathtub, needle sticking out of her arm. She couldn't process what she was seeing, not really. Only doctors and nurses used needles, and they never left them in, so why did this lady have one? Did the nurse forget it there and she was too afraid to take it out herself? That's okay, Marinette was brave. She'd take it out for her. 

Leaning over to grab the end of it, she blacked out only to awaken sitting up in her bed. Blinking back the confusion, she ran downstairs to tell her parents what she experienced, leaving out the woman with the needle. Her mama and papa needn't worry. She's sure the lady would be just fine once whoever that boy she woke up as took it out.

…

It took three years for a swap to last more than a few minutes for her. Her parents assured her that this was normal and the switches with her soulmate would get longer once they were both a little older, usually around ten. This time, it lasted over an hour. She was only nine and quite proud to be considered strong enough to hold a connection earlier than average. 

Only, she woke up in an abandoned building.

This couldn't be right, he was in a home last time and that was only a few months ago. Maybe her soulmate just got lost and decided to take shelter for a while? The gnawing hunger said otherwise. Lifting her shirt, she could see the outline of her ribs and began to understand. This wasn't a mistake. He must've been starving for quite a while to be so thin. That much, she realized on her own. The pain of hunger struck up again and she felt tears well up in her eyes, not only for the tightness in her stomach, but for the misery of her poor soulmate. 

When the pull to switch started to tug at her mind, she resisted, hoping the boy would go and eat with her family. It was almost dinner time and he deserved a real meal, even if it wouldn't transfer with him when he reentered his body. She prayed with all her might that at least this would offer him some small comfort. Surely he felt the tug too and knew she was holding back for him. 

Marinette wished she could leave some sort of note, but upon scavenging the backpack she finally noticed beside her, she found it filled with only necessities. She couldn't fault him for that. His survival was more important.

Her strength wilting, she knew she'd let go soon, her last thought a hope that he enjoyed his time as her.

Coming back to her own body, she carefully hid any reaction and resolved not to tell her parents, not wanting them to know the horrible truth. For what could they do? They didn't know the boy's name, where he lived, or even how to find him. And if the sounds and words she had heard in the last few switches were anything to go off of, he wouldn't speak French either.

 Based on her parents' behavior, they hadn't noticed. Perhaps they just thought she was feeling a little down and didn't want to talk. That was fine by her.

… 

When she turned 12, something changed. Marinette had grown accustomed to waking in random places hungry, sore, and cold. Over time, the hunger was less, so surely he found some reliable source of food even if it wasn't enough to curb the ever present twist in his lower gut. He also seemed stronger over time, little bruises and scars starting to accumulate from what she could only assume were street fights. She considered herself lucky the swap never occurred during one of those.

This however? Was completely different. Enough to give you whiplash. 

She found herself in a soft bed with plush blankets and down pillows, the room surrounding equally as lavish. For a moment she wondered if perchance they had a third soulmate who was much younger than them, but looking down at herself, the frame and scars and structure were all the same.

Not sure how to behave in this new environment, she simply sat there, unmoving, until a nagging in the back of her mind told her to check the drawer of the side table next to her.

Reaching in, she found a crisp, folded up piece of paper with her name scrawled across the top. A note from her soulmate. Opening it up, she thanked everything she had that she realized he probably spoke english three years ago and began studying it extensively. Reading his letter was slow going and took multiple tries, but she eventually figured out the jist of it even if she was clearly missing some of the more obscure words and proper conjugations. 

He was thirteen and had been taken in by a man of wealth, Bruce Wayne. This was home now. She would wake up and not be homeless now. He was sorry. Something about her deserving better. His name was Jason. He was very sorry. A man named Alfred was a good person and trustworthy. She would like him. He hoped she liked him.

The letter, as convoluted and confusing as it was at times, broke her heart.

Shuffling through the drawer, she pulled out a notebook and opened it to a random page and grabbed a pen. She was embarrassed to say that her note was probably more confusing with its broken english, but there was no way he learned French while living on the streets, so she did her best to let him know that he shouldn't apologize. He had no control over his situation and that she hoped he found some reprieve in his time in her body. That she cared and was so very happy for him to have found a home. That it was wonderful to know he would sleep in such comfort with a full stomach and a warm blanket and people who cared for him keeping him safe. That he deserved to be happy and thrive without the fear of where he would sleep that night, when his next meal would be. That she was happy to be his soulmate, no matter what.

…

After that, they switched more sporadically. She learned that muscle memory was an amazing thing. Nothing quite like coming to while sparing with a full grown man. And not realizing that it was a spar and not some man trying to actually take down her soulmate. 

The next time they switched, she found a note with profuse apologies and a brief explanation as to what was happening. That was how she began her training with him. She asked her Maman about getting into martial arts so she could keep up with him and continue his training if he got stuck in her body for more than a few hours. 

Obviously her parents knew she had a soulmate and presumably his new parental figures knew he did too, but they made sure none of them could ever tell when a switch occurred. Letters were made detailing their usual reactions and attitudes and way of doing things. Letters were burnt to never be seen by another's eyes. Instinct is what helped them the most to hide their secrets. While Marinette had always been a generally open and honest kid, this was between the two of them and no one else needed to know their business. Especially with his new role as a vigilante in training.

…

When she turned thirteen, that training took a new meaning for them both. He had been Robin for half a year at this point, with only minimal switches during actual patrols, when she received Tikki. 

Directly after defeating Stonehenge, she wrote out a long winded letter in near perfect english- written grammar rules would forever confuse her- to him despite his immense progress with French and placed it in a secure lock box they used in her home for communicating and instructed Tikki that upon sensing their switch as the magic being assured she could, to stay hidden until he finished reading it in its entirety.

Of course things don't work out that simply and they switch in the middle of an akuma attack. Looking back on the footage, muscle memory once again saved their lives, but she still feels horribly about how he got tossed into it. Tikki assures her that he was okay and read her note and wasn't angry with her. That she had been forced into this position in both their lives now, yes, but not at her.

She could only count her blessings that they both already had a background in fighting at this point. If her mentor took note of her easy transition into superheroism, it was easily chalked up to her martial arts classes, even if she had only been in them for about a year. If his mentor noticed his increased agility and critical thinking due to his time in her body fighting akumas and using convoluted lucky charms, he likely assumed it was his own guidance finally taking hold.

…

The last time they switched, Marinette was fourteen and in class. It was first thing in the morning, attendance already taken and lessons underway. By all accounts, Jason should have been asleep, what with it being around two a.m. in Gotham. Switching at this time wasn't unheard of though considering their lifestyles, so upon feeling the small tug in her mind that let her know she was about to be somewhere else, Marinette placed her tablet down and leaned back in her seat so he wouldn't accidently draw attention by tossing the tablet or falling back upon waking as her. Then she waited.

The first thing her disoriented mind picked up was the feeling of a metal bar launching into her stomach which… admittedly wasn't an entirely new feeling, though it usually occurred in her own body and not through his.

Okay, so a fight, she could handle this.

Her arms wouldn't move though. 

They were strapped down, as were her legs and the metal was pulling itself away from her. So she wasn't launched into a steel bar or batted across the city. This was purposeful, she thought as the bar slammed into her stomach once more, erupting in pain without the protection of a magical suit. Despite the fear now coursing through her, she opened her eyes.

Or rather, attempted to.

One was swollen shut and as she became more aware, she could feel broken ribs, a broken leg and arm, the pulsing of half her face. As her one good eye opened, the room spun, but she could see a man in a swirl of purple and green standing over her body. Her soulmate's body. As soon as the world stopped, she came to focus just in time to see a crowbar swing down into her throat, cracking the windpipe. As she struggled for breath, the tugging came to the back of her mind once more, the strain on his body too much to hold her mind in place.

She pushed it back, focusing more on forcing him back into her mind than breathing at this point, ignoring the blows raining down on her.

She was numb by now anyways.

She could feel Jason trying to claw his way back, pushing against her will to switch back, but at this point, this body wasn't strong enough to allow a switch. She was stuck in him and he in her. Good. Jason had been through enough. She could endure this for him. 

Distantly, she noticed the beating had stopped. Hopefully that meant Batman was here now and would take her away from this place. To a hospital or even to their personal surgeon, whatever their name was, she could never remember. It'd be over soon and she could rest through the pain until Jason's body was healed. Then they could switch back. When the pain was but a distant memory.

Smiling to herself at the thought, she managed a tiny smile, not hearing the explosions in the background until the flames were upon her. 

And then she was gone.

[oakandcirrus]

okay you know what. fuck it. none of this matters here read this poem or don't i don't give a shit. cringe laugh feel your heart spasming inside your chest i truly have lost any desire for any of this i'll just keep dying and keep rotting and i'll bleed into the void and if the void decides to do something i won't be here to watch.

ladies and gentlemen and whatever else lurks you know what no. just. here it is.

HYPOTHERMIC / Oljato: Summer of 1984

moonlight on the water.

shadows and light playing over

the arch of his back.

it’s cold, clouds coming in

from the east.

biting into your knuckles

to make the ache go away.

hatchet,

buried in oak.

hailstones melting

on the ground.

catching his eye

and looking away

just as quick.

his body soaked in star-fire-light

sun-tanned skin, eyes like

shooting stars. make a wish

but don’t lean in.

catching sight of his skin inside our tent;

staring into the fire ‘till the smoke burns.

cleaving body from heart from soul.

pine-citrus smoke, sharp wind off the water,

red earth in the sun.

he’s a lightning bolt,

and i’m just a boy.

how was i supposed to know

that something so beautiful

could leave such a mark.

those blood-red all-American swimming trunks,

that smile like a knife, edgy and dull.

hate as lust and lust as venom

lake water setting off sparks

on his smooth skin. they touch him

and i burn.

sitting at the top of a rock,

watching him swimming now,

disrupting everything that once was still.

the picture of blossoming manhood.

grace and wit and rage.

the water reflects himself

reaching for air.

sierra summers always look the same

beside me, he’s itching for something

to give.

there’s somethin’ dark, down deep inside.

the rain makes it a little better.

makes me numb,

so i don’t gotta feel warm ‘round him.

wind cutting through my soaked clothes

into frozen bones, stumbling in the mud.

i am the fourth son of noah, and he

was right, and i am wicked.

i missed the last boat out of

here. take my sweatshirt.

he smiles and he doesn’t know

what that does to me.

hail cuts like a knife.

even the heart has frozen.

but he’s the spring thaw, the second coming.

he was a maelstrom,

a pure act of God,

a revelation

to behold,

and i was his prophet.

i’d write his book and

paint the ceilings of chapels

in blue and black, green and gold.

this freedom,

it’s cold and

brittle and

easily lost.

easily taken.

tossin’ and turnin' in the night.

cold, always

warm, next to you.

icarus, you’ll be burned.

Father, i’m made of sterner stuff.

watch me bruise

like a flower in bloom.

i could burst open

the capillaries under his skin.

we’re all boys here. draw blood or else.

else what?

else… (takin’ you in, biting the nail) i don’t–

i don’t know. what else is there?

i could love you

if you let me.,

judas, don’t

let me go.

baptism

by fire

in the lungs.

let me up.

i can’t– i can’t.

you can.

you can.

a rebirth

in cold water

streaming

through my hair

and leaving

my skin—

raw—replaced by

warm sun,

warm hands,

warm lips.

it’s us against the world.

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Rising takes Cravs out to skyfish. Egg fish.

Rising Lotus still looked a bit wobbly on her feet as they made their way through the aetheryte plaza. "Ugh, wasn't even a long airship trip..." she took a few deep breaths, trying to collect herself now that they were on solid land... more or less.

Cravendy Hound , in contrast, is in high spirits. She steps out onto the floating island with wonder lighting up her eyes, and she dashes out to an edge to get a better look. "Risin', ye got to work on yer sea legs...or air legs, in this case? Anyway, holy. Shit. What the 'ells keepin' all these rocks flyin' up?"

Rising Lotus: "Some sort of air crystals or somethin' I think? Some sort of aethery type of deal, someone explained it to me when I came here the first time but I don't remember the specifics." she shrugged ."It ain't too far from the spot...which is weird cause you think you could jus' cast out off any side."

Cravendy Hound shrugs. Magic didn't make much sense to her as well. She would follow Rising to whatever spot she was talking about, chatting along the way. "So, ye showed me that weird balloonfish last time, but what else could we drag up?"

Rising Lotus shrugged. "There's lots of different air fish. Some ain't really look like fish though, least not where I casted off here." she started down the way. "But I guess it counts as long as you hook it?"

Cravendy Hound: "I mean, if we're tossin' our 'ooks off a cliff, seems reasonable ye'd catch things other than fish. Like, birds, maybe." She pauses every once and awhile to observe the native flora and fauna around these parts, having never seen anything quite like it.

Rising Lotus approached the edge cautiously, looking out on the vast cloudscape. "Think over here was the place. I remember these weird plants." she plopped down,  setting her tackle box between them. "Also careful when you go for some bait, it has a tendency to... uh float away."

Cravendy Hound: "What?" Cravs goes for Rising's tackle box and opens it, letting a couple of red balloon bugs drifting out. "What?!"

Rising Lotus was able to snag one out of the air as the others wafted away on the breeze. "See? You jus' wanna hook 'em..." she slid the hook into the body part instead of the balloon part, so that it still could float on her line. "Like this. So they can still float. You'll probably still pop a few though on your first try." She then casted her line out, line floating about with the stange bug hook on.

Cravendy Hound does her best to catch some of the bait before it flies away, but the wind blows away most of the escapees. Following Rising's lead, she stabs one a little too roughly through her hook. It's not floating at all anymore. That's not a good sign.

Cravendy Hound throws caution to the wind and decides, screw it. She casts off with the dead bug anyway. The chill really sets in once she begins waiting in earnest. "Eesh, it's colder than I thought up 'ere."

Rising Lotus snickered as Cravs had a deflated bait hanging from her line. "It's a little tricky, the ballon part is way bigger than the non-balloon part." she shrugged as she cast off anyway. "You think it'd be warmer since we're closer to the sun."

Cravendy Hound feels something tug on the other end and she pulls up a...weird? Purple circle? Cravs can't tell if this is a living creature or skytrash. "I think I caught this through pure luck."

Cravendy Hound: "Well, the tops of mountains tend to be cold? Maybe whatevers 'oldin' in all the warm air becomes thinner the 'igher ye go."

Rising Lotus reels in the same thing, unhooking it then tossing it away, watching it drift away. "Wonder what those things are, weird purple balls." she casted off again. " I got some other bait in there too, these giant bugs. But ya know, different from these bugs."

Cravendy Hound gives her Storm Core a confused squeeze and the thing begins to deflate, spitting out questionable liquid as it becomes as flat as a pancake. Cravs feels a tinge bad, decides to toss it off the cliff as if releasing a fish. The purple thing descends and disappears below the cloud layer. It's probably fine, she tells herself!

Cravendy Hound: "Other bait? Giant...bugs?" Cravs mutters apprehensively. "How big we talkin' 'ere."

Rising Lotus: "Well their body is small, but it has super long legs." she motioned to a small cage with Giant Crane Fly fluttering about. "...So...how did Riylli take... ya know.." she reeled in once more after asking, pulling in a small slug like thing with little wings, giving it a strange look. "...it's like some small angel thing."

Cravendy Hound peers over at the bait and lets out a breath of relief. "Oh, that's nothin', I thought ye were talkin' like, /big/ bugs. Like this bug." She spreads her hands a few ilms apart, invisibly outlining something the size of a loaf of bread.

Cravendy Hound: "She took it well enough...at least, don't think we 'ave to worry about 'er gabbin' to Momori anymore. I think it'd be good to keep 'er and Florus separated though, she still wants to tear 'im a new one."

Rising Lotus "Well yeah that was a no brainer...good though. I was worried 'bout her runnin' with Momori... an' her bein' as naive as she is at times...well..." she let out a sigh at the thought before reeling in another catch. It looks like a weird mass of cloth moving about. "Whoah.." she held her line up so she could look at its form better. Whiteloom

Cravendy Hound: "While most Eorzeans don't take kindly to Garleans, I think somethin' personal must've 'appened with Riylli to make 'er distrust 'em that much...and she's sheltered, too. Bein' in the woods for all yer life don't do the mind any good."

Cravendy Hound glances over at Rising's catch and lets out an amused snort. "Hah, did ye accidentally reel in someone's smallclothes?"

(Cravendy Hound) Buoyant Oviform UMM )) (Cravendy Hound) THATS JUST AN EGG?? )) (Rising Lotus) What's the lady's name they're trying to stop again?)) (Rising Lotus) and yes that's an egg)) (Cravendy Hound) Mindred Rot? )) (Rising Lotus) okay thanks I was blanking xD))

Rising Lotus looked again at her catch. "..Well them Ishgarde folk do wear that frilly stuff." She carefully unhooked it and tossed it over the edge only for it to start swimmin' back through the air.

Rising Lotus: "But aye... worried someone's gonna take advantage of that...someone like Momori or Rot."

Cravendy Hound: "Good thing Riylli's got us to protect 'er, then. Or try. She's pretty stubborn."

Cravendy Hound - Something tugs on the line and she reels in an egg of all things. Cravs holds it in her hand, stunned into a prolonged silence.

Cravendy Hound: "...AY. OKAY, NOW I KNOW YER MESSIN' WITH ME." She turns to Rising with the egg brandished like a club. "The purple beachball and cloth thing were fishy enough, but an egg?! What do ye take me for? Are ye, like, attachin' crap to my line or somethin'?!"

Rising Lotus was about to speak on the Riylli matter when Cracs pulled up an egg. "Huh... that is an egg." she cocked her head. "..so there are eggs floatin' 'round up here too? I mean... does it hatch into things?" she gave it a puzzled look, losing her own bait. "How in the hells would I do that? I'm right here with you!" she set herself up and cast out again.

Cravendy Hound: "I dunno, ye tell me! Did ye 'ire a moogle to loiter below us? Or maybe yer usin' magic. That shit can do anythin'," Cravs rambles as she grips the egg in her hand. "Well, the jig is up!"

Cravendy Hound tosses the egg against the ground, smashing it. A tiny, weird fish splats out of it and flops futilely as Cravs goes from confused to seconds away from losing her mind.

(Cravendy Hound) I have no idea but like - if eggs can fly.................. )) (Rising Lotus) These eggs can! If they're even eggs)) (Cravendy Hound) sus eggs ))

Rising Lotus "I don't know any magic! Aside from some of that blue kind I haven't practiced in...whoah!" she was jerked forward from the tug on her line, causing her to stand up and fight with it. "This ones feels big..." her eyes darted down to the edge nervously and inched back a decent amount of ilms. Eventually with a mighty tug a shark swooped up over the side, thrashing about as it landed on the edge before Rising.

Rising Lotus: "...It's a flyin' shark!" her face lit up, though the creature's resistance broke through, biting through her line and the fly-swimming off.

Cravendy Hound peels her eyes off of the questionable fish-egg and hurries to loop her arm around Rising's elbow. "Don't let it drag ye off! It's a long way down!"

Cravendy Hound: "Well, shit! That's a flyin' fish if I ever saw one," Cravs points out. "But like, a /real/ one, not just the glidin' type I see on the water."

Rising Lotus grunted as it flew off. "Well it was a fish.." she watched it fly off into the distance and back into the clouds. " Ain't ever had that happen before. You'll vouch for me that I caught a sky shark right? I'll vouch for your egg." she snickered.

Cravendy Hound narrows her eyes again. "Ye say that, and people'll just think yer loony. Damnit, I wanna hook a shark too." She stabs another balloon bug onto her hook and decides to change spots - maybe standing somewhere else, she'll have more luck?

Cravendy Hound: "Anyway, what exactly did ye promise to Momori? Somethin' 'bout takin' 'er to Idyllshire? Gods, I feel bad that yer stickin' yer neck out for me to begin with..."

Rising Lotus made her way down the way and cast out again. "Ugh... all I could offer was some connections out there, which even that I ain't thrilled about. Gotta warn 'em 'bout her." she sighed. "An' don't worry 'bout it...gotta look out for you to."

Cravendy Hound blinks several times at that last part, two parts dazed and one part embarrassed. Mixed in is also that feeling of fear you get when you look down a cliff - which /may/ be from literally looking down a cliff. She's not sure. "Ah. Well. I can look after myself...but I appreciate the 'elp anyway."

Cravendy Hound: "We look out for each other." Cravs pauses, then glances up to give Rising a shy smile. She finds her footing. "..A 'ound never 'unts alone.

Rising Lotus nodded, returning the smile as she idly reeled in her line. "Aye..." she chewed her lower lip, looking like she was fighting with something. "...I was alone for a bit before I joined up with Heartwood. Was...a bit hard...so.. ya know...you an' Riylli..." she trailed off, reeling in her next catch.

Cravendy Hound tilts her head as she listens to Rising, every word slow and careful. Which struck her as odd, but then again, Cravs figured she was feeling just the same way. "Yeah! It's good the three of us stumbled into each other. Ain't good bein' alone all the time."

Rising Lotus fished up an egg of her own, breaking the tender moment by by grabbing it and shoving it in Crav's face "See! I wasn't putting you on! There are jus'..." she looked at the egg in her hand "..these things floatin' about.." she shrugged and tossed it away.

Rising Lotus: "..b-but yeah...Thanks." she smiled weakly, though it looked like something was still bothering her a bit.

Cravendy Hound rolls her eyes with a smirk. "Well I'll be...ye also got one of them flyin' eggs. Either there really are eggs just out there, waitin' and willin' to be fished up, or we're both goin' crazy from bein' up 'ere too long. If they're aren't just a 'allucination, we should shove 'em in a carton at 'ome as a prank. See if someone bakes a cake with it."

Cravendy Hound: "Anyway, I'm gonna 'ead back. My nose's gonna be frozen solid if I stay out 'ere any longer." She packs up her rod and bumps Rising on the shoulder with a clenched fist as she begins to walk back. "Thanks for takin' me out. Shout if anythin's givin' ye trouble."

Rising Lotus nodded. "Aye, I think I've had enough of starin' off into...certain death." she stashed her rod away. " Glad we finally had a chance to go out here." she rubbed her elbow a bit at her offer, glancing back over the edge before nodding lightly. "..A-alright." she shivered a bit as the chill was finally starting to get to her as well. "..I wonder if they got a bar in that town back there.."

[love-pyramus]

N

NAME: ___________________________________ ROLE: ____________________________________ 2 NEWSIES ACT ONE PROLOGUE: Rooftop, Dawn #1- Overture (Summer, 1899. A figure sleeps peacefully on a rooftop amid the moonlit Manhattan cityscape. It is JACK, a charismatic boy of seventeen. Across the rooftop, another figure stirs. CRUTCHIE, a slight and sickly boy of fifteen, walks with the aid of a wooden crutch. He crosses to the fire escape ladder and fumbles, trying to climb down. JACK stirs.) #2- Santa Fe (Prologue)- Jack, Crutchie JACK: Where you going? Morning bell ain’t rung yet. Get back to sleep. CRUTCHIE: I wanna beat the other fellas to the street. I don’t want anyone should see; I ain’t been walkin’ so good. JACK: Quit gripin’. You know how many guys fake a limp for sympathy? That bum leg of yours is a gold mine. CRUTCHIE: Someone gets the idea I can’t make it on my own, they’ll lock me up in The Refuge for good. Be a pal, Jack. Help me down. (loses his footing and almost falls, yelps.) Whoa!!!! (JACK rushes to CRUTCHIE’S rescue, pulling him back from danger.) JACK: You wanna bust your other leg, too? CRUTCHIE: No. I wanna go down. JACK: You’ll be down there soon enough. Take a moment to drink in my penthouse high above the stinkin’ streets of New York. CRUTCHIE: You’re crazy. JACK: Because I like a breath of fresh air? ‘Cause I like seein’ the sky and the stars? CRUTCHIE: You’re seein’ stars all right! JACK: Them streets down there sucked the life right outta my old man. Years of rotten jobs, stomped on by bosses. And when they finally broke him, they tossed him to the curb like yesterday’s paper. Well, they ain’t doin’ that to me. CRUTCHIE: But everyone wants to come here. JACK: New York’s fine for those what can afford a big strong door to lock it out. But I tell you, Crutchie, there’s a whole other way out there. So you keep your small life in the big city. Give me a big life in a small town. THEY SAY FOLKS IS DYIN’ TO GET HERE, ME I’M DYIN’ TO GET AWAY TO A LITTLE TOWN OUT WEST THAT’S SPANKIN’ NEW AND WHILE I AIN’T NEVER BEEN THERE I CAN SEE IT CLEAR AS DAY IF YOU WANT, I BET’CHA YOU COULD SEE IT TOO 3 CLOSE YOUR EYES, COME WITH ME WHERE IT’S CLEAN AND GREEN AND PRETTY AND THEY WENT AND MADE A CITY OUTTA CLAY WHY, THE MINUTE THAT YA GET THERE FOLKS’LL WALK RIGHT UP AND SAY ”WELCOME HOME, SON WELCOME HOME TO SANTA FE!” (CRUTCHIE is taken under JACK’S spell.) PLANTIN' CROPS, SPLITTIN' RAILS SWAPPIN' TALES AROUND THE FIRE 'CEPT FOR SUNDAY WHEN YOU LIE AROUND ALL DAY SOON YOUR FRIENDS ARE MORE LIKE FAMILY AND THEY'S BEGGIN' YOU TO STAY! AIN'T THAT NEAT? LIVIN' SWEET, IN SANTA FE CRUTCHIE: You got folks there? JACK: Got no folks nowhere. You? CRUTCHIE: I don’t need folks. I got friends. JACK: How’s about you come with me? No one worries about no gimp leg in Santa Fe. You just hop a palomino and ride in style. CRUTCHIE: Feature me: ridin’ in style. JACK: I bet a few months of clean air and you could lose that crutch for good. JACK & CRUTCHIE: SANTA FE, YOU CAN BET WE WON’T LET THEM TOUGH GUYS BEAT US WE WON’T BEG NO ONE TO TREAT US FAIR AND SQUARE THERE'S A LIFE THAT'S WORTH THE LIVIN' AND I'M GONNA DO MY SHARE JACK: WORK THE LAND, CHASE THE SUN JACK & CRUTCHIE: SWIM THE WHOLE RIO GRANDE JUST FOR FUN! CRUTCHIE: (stands on his own.) WATCH ME STAND! WATCH ME RUN... (CRUTCHIE realizes his recover is just a fantasy, and turns away from JACK.) JACK: Hey... (CRUTCHIE looks at him. JACK wraps his arms around his friend protectively.) DON'T YOU KNOW THAT WE'S A FAMILY? WOULD I LET YOU DOWN? NO WAY JUST HOLD ON, KID 'TIL THAT TRAIN MAKES SANTA FE (CRUTCHIE leans against JACK as the sun rises behind them. The church bell tolls 5 a.m., which breaks the spell.) JACK: Time for dreamin’s done. (JACK takes CRUTCHIE’S crutch and bangs it on the fire escape metal, sounding an alarm.) Hey! Specs, Racer, Henry, Albert, Elmer. Get a move on, boys. Them papes don’t sell themselves! #2A- Prologue (Playoff) SCENE ONE: Newsboys’ Lodging House & Newsie Square (RACE, a little tough guy, calls to the others as he dresses.)

4 RACE: Hey, Albert, Elmer, Specs! You heard Jack. Get a move on. (ALBERT appears next to him, still wiping the sleep from his eyes.) ALBERT: I was havin’ the most beautiful dream. My lips is still tingling. RACE: A pretty girl? ALBERT: A leg of lamb! #3- Carrying the Banner- Jack, Newsies, Nuns (More BOYS begin to appear as they dress and wash. ALBERT smokes a cigar.) RACE: Hey! That's my cigar! ALBERT: YOU'LL STEAL ANOTHER. SPECS: (Referring to the other BOYS,) HEY, LOOK, IT'S BATH TIME AT THE ZOO. HENRY: I THOUGHT THAT I'D SURPRISE MY MOTHER. ALBERT: If you can find her. NEWSIES: Who asked you? ALBERT: Papes ain’t movin’ like they used to. I need a new sellin’ spot. Got any ideas? RACE: FROM BOTTLE ALLEY TO THE HARBOR THERE'S EASY PICKIN'S GUARANTEED. FINCH: TRY ANY BANKER, BUM OR BARBER. THEY ALMOST ALL KNOWS HOW TO READ. JACK: IT'S A CROOKED GAME WE'RE PLAYIN', ONE WE'LL NEVER LOSE LONG AS SUCKERS DON'T MIND PAYIN' JUST TO GET BAD NEWS! (The NEWSIES move outdoors to the Newsie Square.) NEWSIES: AIN'T IT A FINE LIFE CARRYING THE BANNER THROUGH IT ALL! A MIGHTY FINE LIFE CARRYING THE BANNER TOUGH AND TALL. WHEN THAT BELL RINGS, WE GOES WHERE WE WISHES. WE'S AS FREE AS FISHES, SURE BEATS WASHIN' DISHES. WHAT A FINE LIFE, CARRYING THE BANNER HOME FREE ALL! (KATHERINE, a lovely young lady, walks by with a friend. ROMEO spots her and starts towards her, but JACK sees her too.) ROMEO: Well, hello, hello, hello, beautiful. JACK: Step back, Romeo. Nothin’ what concerns you here. (moves ROMEO aside and shoots to KATHERINE.) Morning Miss. Can I interest you in the latest news? KATHERINE: The paper isn’t out yet. JACK: I’d be delighted to bring it to you personally. KATHERINE: I’ve got a headline for you: “Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing for His Troubles!” (KATHERINE brushes past JACK and joins her friend.) ROMEO: Back to the bench slugger. You struck out. JACK: (Feigning pain) I’m crushed. FINCH: Hey, Crutchie. What's your leg say? Gonna rain? CRUTCHIE: (shakes his leg) No rain. Partly cloudy. Clear by evening. FINCH: They oughta bottle this guy. RACE: And the limp sells fifty papes a week all by itself. CRUTCHIE: I don't need the limp to sell papes. I got personality. IT TAKES A SMILE THAT SPREADS LIKE BUTTER 5 THE KIND WHAT TURNS A LADY'S HEAD. RACE: IT TAKES AN ORPHAN WITH A STUTTER, FINCH: WHO'S ALSO BLINDALBERT: AND MUTEELMER: AND DEAD! JACK & CRUTCHIE: SUMMER STINKS AND WINTER'S FREEZIN' WHEN YOU WORKS OUTDOORS. JACK, CRUTCHIE, BUTTONS, SPLASHER, & TOMMY BOY: START OUT SWEATIN', END UP SNEZIN', NEWSIES: IN BETWEEN IT POURS! STILL IT'S A FINE LIFE, CARRYING THE BANNER WITH ME CHUMS, (STILL IT’S A FINE LIFE, CARRYING THE BANNER) A BUNCH OF BIG SHOTS, TOSSIN' OUT A FREEBIE TO THE BUMS. (A BUNCH OF BIG SHOTS, TOSSIN’ OUT A FREEBIE) FINCH: (calling to the NEWSIES) HEY! WHAT'S THE HOLD UP? WAITIN' MAKES ME ANTSY. I LIKES LIVIN' CHANCEY NEWSIES: HARLEM TO DELANCEY. WHAT A FINE LIFE CARRYING THE BANNER THROUGH THE... (A group of NUNS appears and distributes a breakfast of coffee and doughnuts to the NEWSIES) NUNS: BLESSED CHILDREN, THOUGH YOU WANDER LOST AND DEPRAVED, JESUS LOVES YOU. YOU SHALL BE SAVED. ELMER: Thanks for the grub, Sistuh. NUN 1: Elmer, when are we going to see you inside the church? ELMER: I don’t know, Sistuh. But it’s bound to rain sooner or later. (SIMULTANEOUS) NUNS: BLESSED CHILDREN, AH. JESUS LOVES YOU, AH RACE: CURDLED COFFEE, CONCRETE DONUTS SPRINKLED WITH MOLD, HOMEMADE BISCUITS, JUST TWO YEARS OLD. ELMER: JUST GIVE ME HALF A CUP. HENRY: SOMETHING TO WAKE ME UP. ROMEO: I GOTTA FIND AN ANGLE. TOMMY BOY: IT'S GETTING BAD OUT THERE. MUSH: PAPERS IS ALL I GOT. SPECS: IT'S EIGHTY-EIGHT DEGREES. JO JO: JACK SAYS TO CHANGE MY SPOT. ALBERT: WISH I COULD CATCH A BREEZE. FINCH: MAYBE IT'S WORTH A SHOT. BUTTONS: ALL I CAN CATCH IS FLEAS. JACK: IF I HATE THE HEADLINE. I'LL MAKE UP A HEADLINE. JACK & A FEW NEWSIES: AND I'LL SAY ANYTHING I HAVE'TA JACK & MORE NEWSIES: 'CAUSE AT TWO FOR A PENNY, IF I TAKE TOO MANY WEASEL JUST MAKES ME EAT 'EM AFTA.

(The NEWSIES continue their journey through downtown Manhattan.) NEWSIE GROUP 1: (SIMULTANEOUSLY WITH NEWSIE GROUP 2 BELOW): GOT A FEELIN' 'BOUT THE HEADLINE! I SMELLS ME A HEADLINE! PAPES ARE GONNA SELL LIKE WE WAS GIVIN' 'EM AWAY! 6 BET'CHA DINNER IT'S A DOOZY, 'BOUT A PISTOL-PACKIN' FLOOZY WHO KNOWS HOW TO MAKE A NEWSIE'S DAY NEWSIE GROUP 2: I DO, TOO! SO IT MUST BE TRUE! WHAT A SWITCH! SOON WE'LL ALL BE RICH! DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER WAY TO MAKE A NEWSIES DAY! NEWSIES: YOU WANNA MOVE THE NEXT EDITION? GIVE US AN EARTHQUAKE OR A WAR. ELMER: HOW 'BOUT A CROOKED POLITICIAN? NEWSIES: YA NITWIT, THAT AIN'T NEWS NO MORE! UPTOWN TO GRAND CENTRAL STATION, DOWN TO CITY HALL, WE IMPROVES OUR CIRCULATION WALKIN' 'TILL WE FALL! NEWSIE GROUP 1 (SIMULTANEOUS WITH NEWSIE GROUP 2 BELOW): BUT WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN. WE'RE ALWAYS OUT THERE SOAKIN' EV'RY SUCKER THAT WE CAN. HERE'S THE HEADLINE: NEWSIES ON A MISSION! KILL THE COMPETITION! SELL THE NEXT EDITION! WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! SEE US OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! ALWAYS OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! NEWSIE GROUP 2: GOT A FEELIN' 'BOUT THE HEADLINE! I SMELLS ME A HEADLINE! PAPES ARE GONNA SELL LIKE WE WAS GIVIN' 'EM AWAY! BET'CHA DINNER IT'S A DOOZY 'BOUT A PISTOL-PACKIN' FLOOZY! DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER WAY TO MAKE A NEWSIE'S DAY! I WAS STAKIN' OUT THE CIRCUS, AND THEN SOMEONE SAID THAT CONEY'S REALLY HOT, BUT WHEN I GET THERE, THERE WAS SPOT WITH ALL HIS CRONIES. HECK, I'M GONNA TAKE WHAT LITTLE DOUGH I GOT AND PLAY THE PONIES! WE AT LEAST DESERVE A HEADLINE FOR THE HOURS THAT THEY WORK US. JEEZ, I BET IF I JUST STAYED A LITTLE LONGER AT THE CIRCUS... (The NEWSIES have arrived at the locked gate in front of the World- a prominent newspaper owned by Joseph Pulitzer.) FINCH: Hey, look! They’re puttin’ up the headline. SPECS: I hope it’s really bloody. With a nice clear picture. ROMEO: Please be murder, please be a murder! (A large chalkboard looms above. The NEWSIES watch in anticipation as a MAN writes the headline in large letters, “TROLLEY STRIKE ENTERS THIRD WEEK.”) ELMER: The trolley strike? IKE: Not again! RACE: Three weeks of the same story. FINCH: They’re killin’ us with that snoozer. SCRUB: I was hopin’ to eat today. (Two tough-looking boys, OSCAR and MORRIS DELANCEY, unlock the gates.) MORRIS: Make way. Step aside. 7 RACE: Dear me, what is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewer may have backed up during the night. PEPPER: Or could it be... NEWSIES: ...the Delancey brothers. FINCH: Hey, Oscar, word on the street says you and your brother took money to beat up striking trolley workers. OSCAR: So? It’s honest work. ALBERT: But crackin’ the heads of defenseless workers? OSCAR: I take care of the guy who takes care of me. RACE: Ain’t your father one of the strikers? OSCAR: Guess he didn’t take care of me! (As if to make his point, MORRIES grabs CRUTCHIE and throws him to the ground.) MORRIS: You want some of that too? Ya lousy crip! (JACK pulls CRUTCHIE back to his feet and then confronts the DELANCEYS. The NEWSIES back up to give JACK room.) JACK: Now that’s not nice, Morris. RACE: Five to one Jack skunks ‘em! SWISH: My money’s on Jack! JACK: One unfortunate day you might find you got a bum gam of your own. How’d you like us pickin’ on you? Maybe we should find out. (And with that, Jack takes CRUTCHIE’S walking stick and smacks the DELANCEYS in the shins, knocking them both to the ground.) OSCAR: Wait till I get my hands on you. JACK: Ya gotta catch me first. (A chase ensues as the NEWSIES sing and dance their way in through the front gate....) NEWSIES: WE'LL ALL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN. WE'RE ALWAYS OUT THERE SOAKIN' EV'RY SUCKER THAT WE CAN. HERE'S THE HEADLINE: ��NEWSIES ON A MISSION!” KILL THE COMPETITION! SELL THE NEXT EDITION! WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! SEE US OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! ALWAYS OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! AH, AH, AH, GO! (The NEWSIES arrive at the distribution windows of the World. WIESEL, an ill-tempered, rumpled man,

appears with the DELANCEYS to collect the money and distribute the papers to the NEWSIES.) WIESEL: Papers for the Newsies! Line up! (JACK is first to the window.) JACK: Good morning, Weasel. Did you miss me? WIESEL: That’s Wise-el. JACK: Ain’t that what I said? (Slapping down his money.) I’ll take the usual. WIESEL: A hundred papes for the wise guy. (OSCAR hands over the papers and RACE moves up to the window.) RACE: How’s it going, Weasel? WIESEL: At least call me “mister.” RACE: I’ll call you sweetheart if you’d spot me fifty papes. (The other NEWSIES laugh.) WIESEL: Drop the cash and move it along. 8 RACE: (slapping down his coin) Whatever happened to romance? WIESEL: Fifty for the Race. Next! CRUTCHIE: Good morning, Mr. Wiesel. WIESEL: Fifty papes for Crutchie. (DAVEY, a 17-year-old-boy who appears out of his element, and his kid brother LES, are next in line.) Have a look at this: a new kid. LES: I’m new too! KNUCKLES: Ya don’t say. RACE: Don’t worry, kid- rubs right off. DAVEY: I’ll take twenty newspapers, please. WIESEL: Twenty for the new kid. Let’s see the dime. DAVEY: I’ll pay you when I sell them. WIESEL: Funny, kid. C’mon, cash up front. DAVEY: But whatever I don’t sell, you buy back, right? WIESEL: Certainly. And every time you lose a tooth I put a penny under your pillow. This kid’s a riot. C’mon. Cough up the cash or blow. (Davey hands over a dime, gets his papers, and looks them over.) Come on, move along. Albert, lemme see your money. ALBERT: You have a very interestin’ face. Ever think of getting’ into the movin’ pictures? WIESEL: You think I could? ALBERT: Sure. Buy a ticket, they let anyone in. WIESEL: Beat it, will ya? DUCKY: Twenty papers please. DAVEY: Sorry. Excuse me. I paid for twenty but you gave me nineteen. (EVERYONE freezes and watches. JACK swoops in and quickly counts the papers.) WIESEL: You seen how nice I was to dis new kid? And what did I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations. DAVEY: I just want what I paid for. OSCAR: He said beat it! (The DELANCEYS start to crack their knuckles.) JACK: New kid’s right, Weasel. Ya gave him nineteen. I’m sure it was an honest mistake on account’a Oscar can’t count to twenty with his shoes on. (OSCAR threatens to attack. WIESEL pushes him back and tosses another paper to DAVEY.) WIESEL: Here. Now take a hike. JACK: (flipping a coin onto the counter) Give him another fifty papes. DAVEY: I don’t want more papes. JACK: What kind’a Newsie don’t want more papes? (Oscar hands DAVEY a stack of papers. DAVEY follows JACK with them.) DAVEY: I’m no charity case. I don’t even know you. LES: His name’s Jack. CRUTCHIE: This here is the famous Jack Kelly. He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage. Made all the papes. JACK: (to LES) How old are you, kid? LES: I’m ten. Almost. JACK: If anybody asks, you’re seven. Younger sells more papes, and if we’re gonna be partners.... DAVEY: Who said we want a partner? CRUTCHIE: Sellin’ with Jack is the chance of a lifetime. You learn from him, you learn from the best. 9 DAVEY: If he’s the best, what’s he need with me? JACK: ‘Cause you got a little brother and I don’t. That face could sell a thousand papes a week. (to LES) Look sad, kid. (LES makes a sad face.) We’re gonna make millions. LES: This is my brother David. I’m Les. JACK: Nice to meet ya, Davey. My two bits come off the top, and we split everything 70-30. LES: 50-50! You wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on a little kid. JACK: 60-40 and that’s my final offer. LES: Deal. (JACK spits in his hand and holds it out to shake. LES copies him and they shake.) DAVEY: That’s disgusting. JACK: It’s just business. (to ALL) Newsies, hit the streets. The sun is up, the headline stinks, and this kid ain’t getting’ any younger! #3- Carrying The Banner (Tag)- Newsies NEWSIES: WE'LL ALL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN. WE'RE ALWAYS OUT THERE SOAKIN' EV'RY SUCKER THAT WE CAN. HERE'S THE HEADLINE: “NEWSIES ON A MISSION!” KILL THE COMPETITION! SELL THE NEXT EDITION! WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER!

SEE US OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! ALWAYS OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! AH, AH, AH, GO! (The NEWSIES exit as the scene shifts to...) SCENE TWO: Pulitzer’s Office, Afternoon (Editor SEITZ, secretary HANNAH, and accountant BUNSEN huddle in a business meeting. The mogul, JOSEPH PULITZER, is having his hair cut by NUNZIO, the barber.) PULITZER: Staff, the World is in trouble. Our circulation is down for the third quarter in a row. SEITZ: But, Mr. Pulitzer, every paper’s circulation is down since the war ended. PULITZER: Whoever said, “war is a tragedy”, wasn’t trying to sell newspapers. BUNSEN: We could use an exciting headline. PULITZER: What have we got today? SEITZ: The trolley strike. PULITZER: That’s not exciting? It’s epic! HANNAH: It’s boring. Folks wanna know, “Is the trolley comin’ or ain’t it?” No one cares why. SEITZ: And the strike’s about to be settled. Governor Roosevelt just put his support behind the workers. PULITZER: That man is a socialist. SEITZ: Teddy Roosevelt is no socialist. He’s an American hero. PULITZER: The man wants to outlaw football for being too violent. Football! Violent?! You’re right. He’s not socialist. He’ a commie! NUNZIO: Mr. Pulitzer, please, you must try to sit still. PULITZER: Gentlemen, please, you are making Nunzio nervous. And when Nunzio gets nervous, I don’t look pretty. (PULITZER sits back.) HANNAH: You never liked Roosevelt. You wrote and editorial against him day after day when he ran for governor. And guess what? He got elected. PULITZER: How can I influence voters if they’re not reading my opinion? 10 SEITZ: Big photos attract readers. PULITZER: Do you know what big photos cost? BUNSEN: But without flashy photos or headlines, how are we supposed to sell more papers. PULITZER: There’s an answer right before your eyes. You’re not thinking this through. People... #3- The Bottom Line- Pulitzer, Seitz, Bunsen, Hannah PULITZER: NUNZIO KNOWS WHEN HE’S CUTTING MY HAIR TRIM A BIT HERE AND THEN TRIM A BIT THERE JUST A MODEST ADJUSTMENT CAN FATTEN THE BOTTOM LINE NUNZIO: Mr. Pulitzer, please. PULITZER: SHAVING IS TRICKY: THE RAZOR SHOULD FLOAT SHAVE ME TOO CLOSE, AND YOU MAY CUT MY THROAT IT’S THE SIMPLEST SOLUTIONS THAT BOLSTER THE BOTTOM LINE BUNSEN: But how does that help us sell more papers? HANNAH: We don’t sell papers, silly, Newsies sell papers. BUNSEN: I’ve got it! Right now we charge the Newsies fifty cents for a hundred papers. PULITZER: Yes... BUNSEN: But if we raised their price to sixty cents per hundred... PULITZER: Now you’re getting somewhere... SEITZ: A mere tenth of a penny per paper. BUNSEN: Every single Newsie would have to sell twenty-five more papers just to earn the same amount as always. PULITZER: My thoughts exactly. It’s genius. HANNAH: It’s going to be awfully rough on those children. PULITZER: Nonsense. I’m giving them a real life lesson in economics. I couldn’t offer them a better education if they were my own. GIVE ME A WEEK AND I’LL TRAIN THEM TO BE, LIKE AN ARMY THAT’S MARCHING TO WAR PROUD OF THEMSELVES AND SO GRATEFUL TO ME, THEY’LL BE BEGGING TO PAY EVEN MORE! WHEN THERE’S DIRT ON OUR SHOES, BOYS, YOU HAVE TO RELAX! WHY THROW THEM OUT? ALL WE NEED IS SOME WAX LISTEN WELL TO THESE BARBERSHIP LESSONS FOR THEY’LL SEE YOU THROUGH! SIETZ, HANNAH & BUNSEN: WHEN YOU’RE STUCK IN THE MUCK, YOU’LL BE FINEYOU’LL ERASE ANY TRACE OF DECLINE SEITZ: WHAT A TRIM! HANNAH: AND A SNIP! BUNSEN: AND A SHINE! PULITZER: AND THE POWER OF PRESS, YES! ONCE AGAIN IS MINE! PULITZER: The price for the Newsies goes up in the morning! PULITZER: JUST A FEW COMMON CENTS, GENTS, THAT’S THE BOTTOM LINE! SIETZ, HANNAH & BUNSEN: EV’RY NEW OUTCOME IS INCOME FOR YOU, THANKS TO THAT BOTTOM LINE! (The lights shift from the office to the NEWSIES during the scene transition.) #4A- Carrying The Banner (Reprise)- Newsies 11 NEWSIES: SUN UP TO SUNDOWN, KNOWIN’ WHERE MY CUSTOMERS’LL BE SUN UP TO SUNDOWN, WATCHIN’ ALL THE LADIES WATCHIN’ ME WALKED MY SHOES OFF, GOT THE DOUGH TO SHOW IT PROBABLY I’LL BLOW IT, THEN BEFORE YOU KNOW IT WE’LL BE OUT THERE, CARRYING THE BANNER….

(The scene shifts to...) SCENE THREE: A Street Corner (JACK leans against a building as DAVEY attempts to peddle papers to a GROUP OF GIRLS.) GIRL 1: And he said I couldn’t see him again! GIRL 2: Who? Your father? GIRL 1: Yeah, just because he didn’t… GIRL 3: Wait, I thought he worked for him? DAVEY: Paper. Paper. Evenin’ pape here. Care for a paper ladies? (The GIRL GROUP giggles) GIRL 2: No thanks. GIRL 3: He was cute! JACK: Sing ‘em to sleep why dontcha? (Snatches a paper from DAVEY and hawks it.) Extra! Extra! Terrified flight from burnin’ inferno! You heard the story right here! PASSERBY: Oh no! What burned down? (PASSERBY snatches the paper from JACK, hands him a coin JACK: Thanks madam! (PASSERBY opens the paper and exits in a rush.) DAVEY: You made that up. JACK: Did not. I said he heard it right here, and he did. DAVEY: My father taught us not to lie. JACK: And mine taught me not to starve. (LES comes up empty-handed.) LES: Hey! I just sold my last paper. DAVEY: I got one more. JACK: Sell it or pay for it. LES: Give it here. (takes the paper, sidles up to a WOMAN and SALLY passing by, and puts the saddest look on his face.) Buy a paper from a poor orphan boy? (LES coughs gently.) WOMAN: Oh, you dear thing. Of course I’ll take a newspaper. Here’s a dime. (The WOMAN and SALLY exit with the paper. SALLY turns and smiles at LES before leaving.) JACK: Born to the breed. LES: This is so much better than school! DAVEY: Don’t even think it. When Pop goes back to work, we go back to school. (While the boys talk, SNYDER, a sinister looking man, sees JACK and steps back again a building. He seems excited to have spotted the boy. Cautiously, he flags down a POLICEMAN and whispers to him.) JACK: So’s how about we divvy up the money, grab some chow, then find you’s somewhere save to spend the night? DAVEY: We gotta get home. Our folks will be waitin’ dinner. JACK: Ya got folks, huh? LES: Doesn’t everybody? DAVEY: (Elbows his brother) Our dad tangled with a delivery truck on the job. Messed his leg up bad, so 12 they laid him off. That’s how come we had to find work. JACK: Yeah, sure, that makes sense. Too bad about your dad. DAVEY: Why don’t you come home with us for dinner? Our folks would be happy to have you. LES: Mom’s a great cook. JACK: Thanks for the invite, but I just remembered I got plans with a fella. He’s probably waiting on me right now. (SNYDER and the POLICEMAN have been slowly moving toward the BOYS. LES spots them and points.) #5- The Chase LES: Is that the guy you’re meetin’? (JACK looks up and sees SNYDER.) SNYDER: Kelly! JACK: (grabbing LES) Run for it! SNYDER: Officer, grab him! You, Jack Kelly, stop! Kelly! (JACK, DAVEY, and LES leap onto a fire escape ladder and take off. The POLICEMAN and SNYDER try to follow. The BOYS climb over the roof and back down the other side, into the flies of a burlesque house.) SCENE FOUR: Medda’s Theater JACK: Slow down. We lost ‘em. DAVEY: Someone want to tell me why I’m running? I got no one chasing me. Who was that guy? JACK: That was Snyder the Spider. A real sweetie. He runs a jail for underage kids called The Refuge. The more kids he locks up, the more money the city pays him. Problem is, all the money goes straight to his own pocket. Do yourself a favor and stay clear of him and The Refuge. (MEDDA LARKIN, a burlesque star, appears in a revealing costume. The EMCEE and two showgirls, the BOWERY BEAUTIES, get ready for the performance.) MEDDA: Hey, you up there, shoo! No kids allowed in the theater. JACK: Not even me, Miss Medda? MEDDA: (recognizing the intruder) Jack Kelly, man of mystery. Get yourself down here and give me a hug. Where have you been keepin’ yourself, kid? (JACK, DAVEY, and LES come down to the stage.) JACK: Never far from you, Miss Medda. Boys, may I present Miss Medda Larkin: the greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint. MEDDA: The only thing I own is a mortgage. Pleasure, gents. DAVEY: A pleasure. (DAVEY bows gallantly, but LES just stands wide-eyed, staring at the BOWERY

BEAUTIES. DAVEY smacks him.) What’s wrong with you? LES: Are you blind? She got no clothes on! DAVEY: That’s her costume. LES: But I can see her legs! MEDDA: (to DAVEY) Step out of his way so’s he can get a better look. Theater’s not only entertaining, it’s educational. (posing) Got the picture, kid? JACK: Miss Medda, I got a little situation out on the street. Mind if I hide out here a while? MEDDA: Where better to escape trouble than a theater? Is Snyder after you again? LES: Hey Jack, did you really escape jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage? DAVEY: What would the Governor be doing at a juvenile jail? JACK: So happens he was runnin’ for office and wanted to show he cared about orphans and such. So while he got his mug in the paper, I got my butt in the back seat and we rode together. 13 LES: You really know the Governor? MEDDA: He don’t, but I do! Say, Jack, when you’ve got time, I want you to paint me some more of these backdrops. (Indicates a park scene drop behind her) This last one you did is a doozy. Folks love it. And things have been going so well that I can actually pay. JACK: I couldn’t take your money, Miss Medda. LES: You pictured that? MEDDA: Your friend is quite an artist. JACK: I don’t get carried away. It’s a bunch of trees. DAVEY: You’re really good. MEDDA: That boy’s got natural aptitude. LES: Geez. I never knew no one with a aptitude. (The EMCEE calls to her.) EMCEE: Miss Medda, you’re on! MEDDA: (strikes a pose) Yeah? How’m I doin’? (to the BOYS) Boys, lock the door and stay all night. You’re with Medda now! EMCEE: (announcing MEDDA as she moves toward the stage) Ladies and gentleman, please welcome the star of our show.... Miss Medda Larkin! (MEDDA is captured in a spotlight. The BOYS watch from the wings, completely entranced, while she performs to the crowd of NY CITIZENS.) #6- That’s Rich- Medda MEDDA: I'M DOING ALL RIGHT FOR MYSELF FOLKS: I'M HEALTHY, I'M WEALTHY, I'M WISE. MY INVESTMENTS AND SUCH HAVE ALL GONE UP SO MUCHSEEMS WHATEVER I TOUCH STARTS TO RISE. I’VE BEEN ALL KINDS OF LUCKY AND YET THE THING I WANT MOST...I CAN'T GET. I LIVE IN A MANSION ON LONG ISLAND SOUND. I PULLED UP A WEED, THEY FOUND OIL IN THE GROUND. BUT YOU TELLING ME YOU DON'T WANT ME AROUNDNOW, HONEY, THAT'S RICH. (to audience members) SOME GUYS GIVE ME ERMINE, CHINCHILLA AND MINK AND GIVE ME DIAMONDS AS BIG AS A SINK, BUT YOU WOULDN'T GIVE ME AS MUCH AS A WINKNOW, BABY, THAT'S RICH. I GET BRANDY FROM ANDY AND CANDY FROM SCOTT. OH, AND FRANK AND EDUARDO CHIPPED IN FOR A YACHT. I GET STARES FROM THE FELLAS AND PRAYERS FROM THE POPE, BUT I RAN OUT MY LUCK GETTING STUCK WITH THIS MOPE! MEDDA: (to audience member) Oh, honey, I was just talking about you! (To “Him”) NOW, LISTEN, SPORT, THIS LIFE'S TOO SHORT TO WASTE IT ON YOU. IT MAY BE ROUGH, BUT SOON ENOUGH I'LL LEARN TO MAKE DO….WITH THE MANSION, THE OIL WELL, THE DIAMONDS, THE YACHT, 14 WITH ANDY, EDUARDO, THE PONTIFF AND SCOTT AND FRANK. AND MY BANK! SO SPILL NO TEARS FOR ME, 'CAUSE THERE'S ONE THING YOU AIN'T THAT I'LL ALWAYS BE, AND HONEY, YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, THAT'S RICH! THAT'S RICH! THAT'S RICH! MEDDA: That’s rich! (MEDDA bows. JACK’s eyes are drawn to a box seat out front where KATHERINE sits watching the show. The set shifts as he crosses the stage and climbs the stairs.) #6A- I Never Planned On You/Don’t Come a-Knocking- Jack, Bowery Beauties MEDDA: And now, gents, let’s have a big hand for the Bowery Beauties! (The BOWERY BEAUTIES begin to dance.) BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON’T COME A-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR JACK: (climbs into the box) Well, hello again. KATHERINE: This is a private box. JACK: (Moving closer) Want I should lock the door? (Moving closer still) Twice in one day. Think it’s fate? KATHERINE: (Dismissive) Go away. I'm working. JACK: A working girl, huh? Doin’ what? KATHERINE: Reviewing the show for the New York Sun. JACK: Hey! I work for the World. KATHERINE: Somewhere out there someone cares. Go tell them. JACK: The view’s better here. KATHERINE: Please go. I am not in the habit of speaking to strangers. JACK:

Then you’re gonna make a lousy reporter. The name’s Jack Kelly. KATHERINE: Is that what it says on your rap sheet? JACK : A smart girl. I admire smart girls. (Admiring KATHERINE) Beautiful. Smart. Independent. KATHERINE: (Getting loud) Do you mind!? MEDDA: (Hollering up to JACK and KATHERINE) You got in for free. At least pay attention. JACK: Sorry Medda. (KATHERINE returns to watching the show, but JACK only has eyes for her. He takes a piece of newsprint ad a pencil in his pocket and begins to sketch of portrait of her. The image of the drawing appears in projections behind them.) JACK: I GOT NO USE FOR MOONLIGHT OR SAPPY POETRY. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT'S FOR SUCKERS, AT LEAST IT USED TO BE. LOOK, GIRLS ARE NICE, ONCE OR TWICE, TILL I FIND SOMEONE NEW, BUT I NEVER PLANNED ON SOMEONE LIKE YOU. (Sings simultaneously with the Bowery Beauties) I GOT NO USE FOR MOONLIGHT OR SAPPY POETRY. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT'S FOR SUCKERS, AT LEAST IT USED TO BE. JACK: NO, I NEVER PLANNED ON NO ONE LIKE YOU. BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON'T COME A KNOCKING ON MY DOOR. 15 YOU AREN'T WELCOME HERE NO MORE. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN YOU STUNK LIKE YESTERDAY'S TRASH THE NIGHT YOU STOLE MY HEART PLUS FORTY DOLLARS IN CASH. TURNS OUT MY BEAU IS JUST SOME BUM. TURNS OUT THAT LOVE AIN'T BLIND, IT'S DUMB. YOU NEVER TOLD THE TRUTH OR WORKED A DAY IN YOUR LIFE. IN FACT, YOU'RE SO REVOLTIN', I FEEL BAD FOR YOUR WIFE. KATHERINE: What are you doing? JACK: Quiet down. There's a show going on. KATHERINE: You are the most impossible boyJACK: Shhh! KATHERINE: Ever. BOWERY BEAUTIES: I WON'T BE SHAVING YOUR BACK ANYMORE, NO, SENOR. JACK: NO, I NEVER PLANNED ON NO ONE LIKE YOU. BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON'T COME A-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR! BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON'T COME A-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR! BOWERY BEAUTIES: DON'T COME A-KNOCKING ON MY DOOR! (JACK places the newsprint on the empty chair as he exits. KATHERINE looks at it and sees the portrait of herself, beautifully rendered. We can almost see her blush.) #6B- To the Distribution Window SCENE FIVE: Newsie Square, Next Morning (A few NEWSIES convene outside the distribution window of the World as the circulation bell tolls.) SPLASHER: Them fire sirens kept me awake all night. MUSH: Sirens is like lullabies to me. The louder they wail the better the headline. And the better the headline, the better I eat. And the better I eat... SPLASHER: (cutting MUSH off) ...the further away from you I sleep! (LES and DAVEY arrive.) DAVEY: ‘Morning, everybody. Sorry we’re late. GUM GUM: You didn’t miss nothin’ yet. NEWBY: What made your mornin’ excitin’ this early? DAVEY: We had to help our mom with something. RACE: They gotta mudder? I was gonna get me one. ROMEO: What’d you do with the one you had? BUTTONS: He traded her for a box of cigars. RACE: They was Coronas! LES: We have a father too. BUTTONS: A mudder and a fodder. RACE: Ain’t we the hoi polloi? LES: So, how’s it going today? TOMMY BOY: Ask me after they put up the headline. (LES looks up to read it.) CHICKLET: Here it comes now. 16 ALBERT: (reading) “New Newsie Price: Sixty Cents Per Hundred.” MUSH: What’d you say? (The NEWSIES begin to take notice.) DAVEY: Is that news? MIKE: It is to me. ALBERT: They jacked up the price of papes. RACKET: Ten cents more a hundred! ELMER: I can eat two days on a dime. CRUTCHIE: I’ll be sleepin’ on the street. JO JO: You already sleep on the street. CRUTCHIE: In a worse neighborhood. (JACK arrives.) SALAMI: Wait’ll Jack hear’s about this. IKE: He’s gonna lose it. CRISS-CROSS: Here he comes now! KNUCKLES: Jack, check this out. JACK: What’re you all standin’ around for? CRUTCHIE: Get a load of this, Jack. ROMEO: Like Pulitzer don’t make enough already? CHICKLET: The rich gotta get richer…. CURLY: While we all gotta starve ta death. (WIESEL opens his window for business. He stares at the NEWSIES with a malevolent smile.) WIESEL: Papes for the Newsies. JACK: Relax. It’s gotta be a gag. WIESEL: Line up, boys. (JACK goes up to the window and slaps his money down.)

JACK: Good joke, Weasel. Really got the fellas goin’. I’ll take a hundred and be on my way. WIESEL: A hundred’ll cost ya sixty. JACK: I ain’t payin’ no sixty— WIESEL: Then make way for someone who will. (SPECS and a few more NEWSIES arrive.) JACK: You bet! Me and the fellas will take a hike over to The Journal. NEWSIES: YEAH!!! SPECS: I’ll save you the walk. They upped their price too. JACK: Then we’ll take our business to the Sun! WIESEL: It’s the same price all around town. New day. New price. BUDDY: Why the jack-up? WIESEL: For them kind’a answers you gotta ask a little further up the food chain. So, you buyin’ or movin’ on? JACK: C’mere fellas. (The NEWSIES huddle together as a gang.) FINCH: They can’t just do that, can they? RACE: Why not? It’s their paper. CRUTCHIE: It’s their world. HENRY: Ain’t we got no rights? CRUTCHIE: We got the right to starve. C’mon, let’s get our papes and hit the streets while we still can. HENRY: At them prices? CRUTCHIE: We got a choice? PICKLES: If it’s the same everywhere, then I don’t see another option. 17 JACK: Hold on. Nobody’s payin’ no new nothin’. TOMMY BOY: You got a idea? SCRUB: What is it Jack? JACK: Keep your shirt on. Lemme think this through. BUTTONS: What’s your angle? (LES pushes the other boys away.) SPLASHER: Let’s hear the idea, Jack! LES: Stop crowdin’ him. Let the man work it out. (The NEWSIES back up and watch JACK think.) Hey, Jack, you still thinkin’? RACE: Sure he is. Can’t you smell smoke? DUCKY: I don’t get it. JACK: All right, here’s the deal: if we don’t sell papes, then no one sells papes. Nobody gets to that window till they put the price back where it belongs. DAVEY: You mean like a strike? JACK: You heard Davey. We’re on strike. DAVEY: Hold on. I didn’t say— JACK: We shut down this place like them workers shut down the trolleys. FINCH: And the cops will bust our heads! TOMMY BOY: Half them strikers is laid up with broke bones. JACK: Cops ain’t gonna care about a bunch of kids. Right, Davey? DAVEY: Leave me out of this. I’m just trying to feed my family. JACK: And the rest of us is on playtime? Just because we only make pennies don’t give nobody the right to rub our noses in it. DAVEY: It doesn’t matter. You can’t strike. You’re not a union. JACK: And what if I says we is? DAVEY: There’s a lot of stuff you gotta have in order to be a union. RACKET: Like what? DAVEY: Like membership. JACK: What do you call these guys? DAVEY: And officers. CRUTCHIE: I nominate Jack President! (The NEWSIES cheer their approval.) JACK: Gee, I’m touched. DAVEY: How about a statement of purpose? JACK: Must’a left it in my other pants. RACE: What’s a statement of purpose? DAVEY: A reason for forming the union. JACK: What reason did the trolley workers have? DAVEY: I don’t know. Wages? Work hours? Safety on the job? JACK: Who don’t need that? Bet if your father had a union you wouldn’t be out here sellin’ papes right now. Yeah? DAVEY: Yeah. JACK: So, our union is hereby formed to watch each other’s backs. “Union’d we stand.” Hey, that’s not bad. Somebody write that down. LES: I got a pencil. JACK: Meet our Secretary of State. Now what? 18 DAVEY: If you want to strike, the membership’s gotta vote. JACK: So let’s vote. What do you say, fellas? The choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or do we strike? NEWSIES: Strike!!!!!! #7- The World Will Know- Jack, Davey, Les, Crutchie, Newsies JACK: You heard the voice of the membership. The Newsies of Lower Manhattan are now officially on strike. What next? CRUTCHIE: Wouldn’t a strike be more effective if someone in charge knew about it? RACE: It would be a pleasure to tell Weasel myself. JACK: Yeah? And who tells Pulitzer? Davey? DAVEY: I don’t know… I guess… (giving in) You do, Mr. President. JACK: That’s right, we do! (To DAVEY, a bit hushed.) What do we tell ‘em? DAVEY: The newspaper owners need to respect your rights as employees. JACK: (Loudly to the group.) Pulitzer and Hearst gotta respect the rights of the workin’ kids of this city. DAVEY:

They can’t just change the rules when they feel like it. JACK: That’s right. We do the work, so we get a say. DAVEY: (finally committing) We’ve got a union. NEWSIES: Yeah! JACK: PULITZER AND HEARST, THEY THINK WE'RE NOTHING'. ARE WE NOTHIN'? NEWSIES: NO! DAVEY: They need to understand that we’re not enslaved to them. We’re free agents. JACK: PULITZER AND HEARST, THEY THINK THEY GOT US. DO THEY GOT US? NEWSIES: NO! DAVEY: We’re a union now – the Newsboys’ Union – and we mean business. JACK: EVEN THOUGH WE AIN'T GOT HATS OR BADGES, WE'RE A UNION JUST BY SAYING SO. AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW. FINCH: What’s to stop some other kids comin’ along to sell our papes? ALBERT: Just let ‘em try! DAVEY: No! We can’t beat up on the other kids. We’re all in this together. JACK: (ignoring DAVEY) WHAT'S IT GONNA TAKE TO STOP THE WAGONS? ARE WE READY? NEWSIES: YEAH! JACK: WHAT'S IT GONNA TAKE TO STOP THE SCABBERS? CAN WE DO IT? NEWSIES: YEAH! JACK: WE'LL DO WHAT WE GOTTA DO UNTIL WE BREAK THE WILL OF MIGHTY BILL AND JOE. NEWSIES: AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW. AND THE JOURNAL TOO. JACK & DAVEY: MISTER HEARST AND PULITZER, HAVE WE GOT NEWS FOR YOU. NEWSIES: SEE, THE WORLD DON'T KNOW, BUT THEY'RE GONNA PAY. JACK & DAVEY: 'STEAD OF HAWKIN' HEADLINES WE'LL BE MAKIN' 'EM TODAY. NEWSIES: AND OUR RANKS WILL GROW, CRUTCHIE: AND WE'LL KICK THEIR REAR! NEWSIES: YEAH! AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW THAT WE BEEN HERE. JACK: WHEN THE CIRCULATION BELL STARTS RINGING, WILL WE HEAR IT? NEWSIES: NO! 19 JACK: WHAT IF THE DELANCEY'S COME OUT SWINGING? WILL WE HEAR IT? NEWSIES: NO! WHEN YA GOT A HUNDRED VOICES SINGING, WHO CAN HEAR A LOUSY WHISTLE BLOW?AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW THAT THIS AIN'T NO GAME, THAT WE GOT A TON OF ROTTEN FRUIT AND PERFECT AIM. SO THEY GAVE THEIR WORD. WELL, IT AIN'T WORTH BEANS. NOW THEY'RE GONNA SEE WHAT "STOP THE PRESSES" REALLY MEANS. AND THE OLD WILL WEEP, AND GO BACK TO SLEEP. AND WE GOT NO CHOICE BUT TO SEE IT THROUGH, RACE: AND WE FOUND OUR VOICE, SPECS: AND I LOST MY SHOE! NEWSIES: AND THE WORLD WILL- (The scene transitions to the gate. JACK climbs up to the chalkboard and writes down “STRIKE” over the other headlines.) NEWSIES: Yeah!! JACK: PULITZER MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON'T OWN US! NEWSIES: PULITZER MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON'T OWN US! JACK: PULITZER MAY CRACK THE WHIP BUT HE WON'T WHIP US! NEWSIES: PULTIZER MAY CRACK THE WHIP BUT HE WON'T WHIP US! AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW WE BEEN KEEPIN' SCORE. EITHER THEY GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES THEM A WAR. WE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG, AND WE PAID OUR DUES. (The NEWSIES make their way to the front door of the World.) CRUTCHIE: AND THE THINGS WE DO TODAY WILL BE TOMORROW'S NEWS. NEWSIES: AND THE DIE IS CAST, AND THE TORCH IS PASSED. NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND A ROAR WILL RISE… NEWSIES GROUP 2: …FROM THE STREETS BELOW, NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND OUR RANKS WILL GROW… NEWSIES GROUP 2: …AND GROW NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND GROW NEWSIES: AND SO THE WORLD WILL FEEL THE FIRE AND FINALLY KNOW! (The NEWSIES open the doors. JACK, DAVEY, and LES enter and the doors close behind them. The NEWSIES wait in anticipation. Then the doors fly open and a GUARD throws JACK, DAVEY, and LES out.) GUARD: And stay out! LES: (yelling back) You can tell Pulitzer that a few days into this strike, he’s gonna be beggin’ for an appointment to see me! You got that? (Doors Slam.) He got it. NEWSIES: PULITZER MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON'T OWN US! JACK: PULITZER MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON'T OWN US! NEWSIES: PULITZER MAY CRACK THE WHIP BUT HE WON'T WHIP US! JACK: PULITZER MAY CRACK THE WHIP BUT HE WON'T WHIP US! NEWSIES: SO THE WORLD SAYS "NO!" WELL THE KIDS DO TOO! TRY TO WALK ALL OVER US, WE'LL STOMP ALL OVER YOU! CRUTCHIE: CAN THEY KICK US OUT? TAKE AWAY OUR VOTE? 20 NEWSIES: WILL WE LET 'EM STUFF THIS CROCK OF GARBAGE DOWN OUR THROAT? NO! EVERYDAY WE WAIT IS A DAY WE LOSE! NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND THIS AIN'T FOR FUN! NEWSIES GROUP 2: AND IT AIN'T FOR SHOW! NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND WE'LL FIGHT 'EM TOE NEWSIES GROUP 2: TO TOE NEWSIES GROUP 1: TO TOE! NEWSIES: AND JOE, YOUR WORLD WILL FEEL THE FIRE AND FINALLY, FINALLY KNOW!

SCENE SIX: Jacobi’s Deli & Street, Afternoon (The NEWSIES settle in at their favorite hangout. The proprietor, MS. JACOBI, arrives with a tray of glasses, which he proceeds to hand out.) MS. JACOBI: And here we go... a glass of water for you. And one for you. And one for you. And you. And, ah, who’s the big spender what ordered the seltzer? ALBERT: Over here. MS. JACOBI: And that’ll be two cents. ALBERT: Two cents for a glass of seltzer? Just gimme water. MS. JACOBI: (switching out glasses) How did I ever see that coming? SWISH: Could I get a water too? PEPPER: Oh! Me too! NEWBY: Me too! GUM GUM: Over here as well! MIKE: Just bring another round of waters please. MS. JACOBI: Yeesh. Let me do the dishes to get a few more glasses clean first. (She exits.) DAVEY: (toasting) I’d say we launched our strike in a most auspicious manner. (The NEWSIES try to figure out what DAVEY said.) MUSH: I don’t know about that, but we sure scared the bejeebers outta Weasel! CRUTCHIE: Did you see the Delanceys? PICKLES: They didn’t know which way was up. JACK: (to DAVEY) So, what’s next? DAVEY: Now you have to spread the word. Let the rest of the city’s Newsies know about the strike. JACK: You heard the man. Let’s split up and spread the word. MUSH: I’ll take Harlem. RACE: I got midtown. JO JO: I got the Bronx. BUTTONS: And I got the Bowery. JACK: Specs, you take Queens. Tommy Boy, you take the Eastside. And who wants Brooklyn? (The NEWSIES cringe and look away.) C’mon. Brooklyn. Spot Conlon’s turf. Finch, you tellin’ me you’re scared of Brooklyn? FINCH: I ain’t scared of no turf. But that Spot Conlon got me a little jittery. JACK: Fine. Me and Davey will take Brooklyn. DAVEY: (still struggling) Me? I have to...(KATHERINE enters) KATHERINE: Why’s everyone so scared of Brooklyn? JACK: (smiling) What’re you doin’ here? 21 KATHERINE: Asking a question. Have you got an answer? JACK: Brooklyn is the sixth largest city in the entire world. You got Brooklyn, you hit the mother load. (sidling up to KATHERINE) For someone who works for the New York Sun, you spend an awful lot of time hanging around at the World. So, what’s that about? You followin’ me? KATHERINE: The only thing I’m following is a story. A rag-tag gang of ragamuffins wants to take on the kingmakers of New York. Think you have a chance? JACK: Shouldn’t you be at the ballet? KATHERINE: Question too difficult? I’ll rephrase: will the richest and most powerful men in New York give the time of day to a gang of kids who haven’t got a nickel to their name? CRUCHIE: You don’t gotta be insultin’. I got a nickel. KATHERINE: So I guess you’d say you’re a couple of Davids looking to take on Goliath? DAVEY: We never said that. KATHERINE: You didn’t have to. I did. JACK: I seen a lot of papers in my time and I ain’t never noted no girl reporters writing hard news. KATHERINE: Wake up to the new century. The game’s changing. How about an exclusive interview? JACK: Ain’t your beat entertainment? KATHERINE: This is entertaining... so far. JACK: What’s the last news story you wrote? KATHERINE: What’s the last strike you organized? ROMEO: (pushing his way in) You’re out of your league, Kelly. Methinks the lady needs to handled by a real man. KATHERINE: (waving him off) You thinks wrong, Romeo. ROMEO: How’d she know my name? DAVEY: (to JACK) I say we save any exclusive for a real reporter. KATHERINE: (Almost angry) You see somebody else giving you the time of day? (desperate) Alright, so I’m just busting out of the social pages. But you give me the exclusive, let me run with the story, and I promise you I’ll get you the space. CRUTCHIE: You think we could be in the papes? KATHERINE: Shut down a paper like the World and you’re going to make the front page. JACK: You want a story? Be in front of the circulation gate tomorrow morning and you’ll get one. And bring a camera. You’re gonna wanna snap a picture of dis. (MS. JACOBI comes to shoo the NEWSIES out.) MS. JACOBI: Let’s go, boys, play outside. I gotta set up for dinner. I got payin’ customers need tables. #8-

The World Will Know (Reprise)- Jack, Davey, Les, Newsies FINCH: C’mon. We got Newsies to visit. RACE: You won’t be shooin’ us off when we gets our mugs in the papes! (The NEWSIES exit the deli and head to the street.) NEWSIES: AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW, WE BEEN KEEPIN' SCORE. EITHER THEY GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES THEM A WAR. WE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG, AND WE PAID OUR DUES. AND THE THINGS WE DO TODAY WILL BE TOMORROW'S NEWS. AND THE DIE IS CAST, AND THE TORCH IS PASSED. NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND A ROAR WILL RISE… 22 NEWSIES GROUP 2: …FROM THE STREETS BELOW, NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND OUR RANKS WILL GROW… NEWSIES GROUP 2: …AND GROW NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND GROW NEWSIES: AND SO THE WORLD WILL FEEL THE FIRE AND FINALLY KNOW! DAVEY: Come on, Les. The folks are waiting. (The Newsies disperse as DAVEY and LES head home. JACK lingers behind with KATHERINE.) KATHERINE: So, what’s your story? Are you selling newspapers to work your way through art school? JACK: Art school? Are you kiddin’ me? (KATHERINE holds up the drawing that JACK did of her.) KATHERINE: But you’re an artist. You’ve got real talent. You should be inside the paper illustrating, not outside hawking it. JACK: Maybe that ain’t what I want. KATHERINE: So tell me what you want. JACK: (shamelessly flirting) Can’t you see it in my eyes? KATHERINE: Have you always been their leader? JACK: I’m a blowhard. Davey’s the brains. KATHERINE: Modesty is not a quality I would have pinned on you. JACK: You got a name? KATHERINE: Katherine... Plumber. JACK: What’s the matter? Ain’t ya sure? KATHERINE: It’s my byline, the name I publish under. Tell me about tomorrow. What are you hoping for? JACK: I’d rather tell you what I’m hoping for tonight. KATHERINE: Mr. Kelly.... JACK: Today we stopped our Newsies from carrying out papes, but the wagons still delivered to the rest of the city. Tomorrow, we stop the wagons. KATHERINE: Are you scared? JACK: Do I look scared? But ask me again in the morning. KATHERINE: (writes down the quite and starts to exit) Good answer. Good night, Mr. Kelly. JACK: Come on, where you runnin’? It ain’t even supper time! #9- Watch What Happens- Katherine KATHERINE: I’ll see you in the morning. And, off the record, good luck. JACK: Hey, Plumber. Write it good. We both got a lot ridin’ on you. (JACK walks off as KATHERINE heads to her office.) SCENE SEVEN: Katherine’s Office (KATHERINE sits down at her desk and begins to write her article) KATHERINE: You heard the man, “Write it good.” Write it good, or it’s back to wheezing your way through the flower show. No pressure. Let’s go. (typing) “Newsies Stop the World.” A little hyperbole never hurt anyone. (typing again) “With all eyes fixed on the trolley strike, there’s another battle brewing in the city...” (pulls paper out of the typewriter and rips it up) ...and if I could just write about it... (puts a fresh piece of paper in the typewriter) Come on, Katherine, the boys are counting on you. Oh, you poor boys.... 23 "WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW" SO THEY SAY, ALL I KNOW IS I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO WRITE OR THE RIGHT WAY TO WRITE IT THIS IS BIG, LADY, DON'T SCREW IT UP THIS IS NOT SOME LITTLE VAUDEVILLE I'M REVIEWING POOR LITTLE KIDS VERSUS RICH GREEDY SOUR PUSSES HA! IT'S A CINCH! IT COULD PRACTICALLY WRITE ITSELF AND LET'S PRAY IT DOES, CAUSE AS I MAY HAVE MENTIONED I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I'M DOING AM I INSANE? THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR WELL THAT, PLUS THE SCREAMING OF TEN ANGRY EDITORS “A GIRL?” “THAT’S A GIRL! HOW THE HECK?” “IS THAT EVEN LEGAL?” “LOOK, JUST GO AND GET HER!” NOT ONLY THAT, THERE'S A STORY BEHIND THE STORY THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN, EXPLOITED, INVISIBLE SPEAK UP, TAKE A STAND, AND THERE'S SOMEONE TO WRITE ABOUT IT THAT'S HOW THINGS GET BETTER GIVE LIFE'S LITTLE GUYS SOME INK, AND WHEN IT DRIES JUST WATCH WHAT HAPPENS THOSE KIDS WILL LIVE AND BREATHE RIGHT ON THE PAGE AND ONCE THEY'RE CENTER STAGE, YOU WATCH WHAT HAPPENS AND WHO'S THERE WITH HER CAMERA AND HER PEN AS BOYS TURN INTO MEN THEY'LL STORM THE GATES AND THEN JUST WATCH WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY DO! KATHERINE: (reads aloud what she’s written)

“A modern day David is poised to take on the rich and powerful Goliath. With the swagger of one twice his age, armed with nothing more than a few nuggets of truth, Jack Kelly stands ready to face the behemoth Pulitzer.” Now that’s how you turn a boy into a legend! PICTURE A HANDSOME, HEROICALLY CHARISMATIC PLAIN SPOKEN, KNOW NOTHING, SKIRT-CHASING, COCKY LITTLE SON OF A LIE DOWN WITH DOGS AND YOU WAKE UP WITH A RAISE AND A PROMOTION SO, HE'S A FLIRT, A COMPLETE EGO MANIAC THE FACT IS HE'S ALSO THE FACE OF THE STRIKE WHAT A FACE, FACE THE FACTS, THAT'S A FACE THAT COULD SAVE US ALL FROM SINKING IN THE OCEAN LIKE SOMEONE SAID, "POWER TENDS TO CORRUPT" AND ABSOLUTE POWER, WAIT! WAIT, CORRUPTS!? ABSOLUTELY, THAT IS GENIUS! BUT GIVE ME SOME TIME, I'LL BE TWICE AS GOOD AS THAT SIX MONTHS FROM NEVER JUST LOOK AROUND AT THE WORLD WE'RE INHERITING AND THINK OF THE ONE WE'LL CREATE THEIR MISTAKE IS THEY GOT OLD, THAT IS NOT A MISTAKE WE'LL BE MAKING NO SIR, WE'LL STAY YOUNG FOREVER! GIVE THOSE KIDS AND ME THE BRAND NEW CENTURY AND WATCH WHAT HAPPENS IT'S DAVID AND GOLIATH, DO OR DIE THE FIGHT IS ON AND I CAN'T WATCH WHAT HAPPENS 24 BUT ALL I KNOW IS NOTHING HAPPENS IF YOU JUST GIVE IN IT CAN'T BE ANY WORSE THAN HOW IT'S BEEN AND IT JUST SO HAPPENS THAT WE JUST MIGHT WIN SO WHATEVER HAPPENS! LET'S BEGIN! (Blackout.) #9A- Watch What Happens (Playoff) SCENE EIGHT: Newsie Square, Next Morning (JACK and the other NEWSIES nervously begin to assemble. As DAVEY and LES arrive, DAVEY pulls JACK aside.) DAVEY: Is anyone else coming? JACK: Don’t got a clue. RACE: Youse seen Spot Conlon, right? What’d he say? JACK: Sure we seen him. DAVEY: Him and about twenty of his gang. LES: And them Brooklyn boys is big. JACK: And I gotta say, Spot was very impressed. Wasn’t he? DAVEY: I’d say. RACE: So they’re with us? DAVEY: That all depends on how you look at it. If you look and see Brooklyn, then they’re with us. JACK: They wanted proof we’re not gonna fold at the first sign of trouble. FINCH: Are we? JACK: We are not! There’s us and Harlem— MUSH: Not so fast, boss. Harlem wants to know what Brooklyn’s gonna do. JACK: How about Queens? SPECS: Queens will be right here backing us up— JACK: Ya see! SPECS: ... as soon as they get the nod from Brooklyn. RACE: I got the same fish-eye in midtown. (The DELANCEYS walk by on their way to work.) MORRIS: Say, Oscar, looks like we got bum information about a strike happenin’ here today. Not that I’m complainin’. My skull bustin’ arm could use a day of rest. (The DELANCYES move on.) LES: Are we doing the right thing? DAVEY: Sure we are. RACE: Maybe we put this off a couple a days? DAVEY: No. We can’t... (desperately to JACK) Say something. Tell them if we back off now they will never listen to us again. #10- Seize The Day- Davey, Jack, Les, Newsies JACK: (to the NEWSIES) We can’t back down now. No matter who does or doesn’t show. Like it or not, now is when we take a stand. FINCH: How’s about we just don’t show for work? That’ll send a message. 25 JACK: They’ll just replace us. They need us to stand our ground. (turns to DAVEY) C’mon, Davey. Tell ‘em. DAVEY: (on the spot, timidly begins a pep talk) NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY. STARE DOWN THE ODDS AND SEIZE THE DAY. MINUTE BY MINUTE, THAT'S HOW YOU WIN IT. WE WILL FIND A WAY. BUT LET US SEIZE THE DAY. (CRUTCHIE arrives with a rag painted “STRIKE!” hanging from his crutch.) CRUTCHIE: Hey Jack. Look what I made! Good, huh? Strike! RACE: (To Crutchie) That’s great. (To Davey) That’s pitiful. LES: Don’t be so quick to judge. Maybe Pulitzer will it out his window and feel sorry for us. JACK: (call up to chalkboard platform) Hey Specs, any sign of reinforcements? (thumbs down) Davey…? DAVEY: COURAGE CANNOT ERASE OUR FEAR. COURAGE IS WHEN WE FACE OUR FEAR. TELL THOSE WITH POWER, SAFE IN THEIR TOWER, WE WILL NOT OBEY (DAVEY steps up next to JACK as the scene shifts to the distribution window.) DAVEY & JACK: BEHOLD THE BRAVE BATTALION THAT STANDS SIDE BY SIDE, TOO FEW IN NUMBER AND TOO PROUD TO HIDE. THEN SAY TO THE OTHERS WHO DID NOT FOLLOW THROUGH,

"YOU'RE STILL OUR BROTHERS, AND WE WILL FIGHT FOR YOU." (The circulation bell rings. The NEWSIES ignore it.) DAVEY, RACE, JACK & CRUTCHIE: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY. STARE DOWN THE ODDS AND SEIZE THE DAY. (Other NEWSIES gradually join in until all are singing.) NEWSIES: ONCE WE'VE BEGUN, IF WE STAND AS ONE, SOMEDAY BECOMES SOMEHOW, AND THE PRAYER BECOMES A VOW, JACK: AND THE STRIKE STARTS HERE AND NOW! (The circulation bell rings again. WIESEL pushes his window open.) WIESEL: The sun is up and the birds is singin’. A beautiful day to crack some heads, ain’t it? Step right up and get your papes. MORRIS: (stepping forward) You workin’ or trespassin’? What’s your pleasure? (EVERYONE tenses. Three SCABS walk on and head toward the circulation window to collect their papers.) DAVEY: Who are they? JACK: Scabs. What do you think? FINCH: If they think they can just waltz in here and take our jobs – CRUTCHIE: We can handle them! (The NEWSIES move menacingly forward as the SCABS collect their papers from the distribution window.) ROMEO: Let’s soak ‘em boys! FINCH: Yeah! Let’s get ‘em! DAVEY: No! We all stand together or we don’t have a chance! (calling for help) Jack! JACK: All right. I know. I hear ya. (Looks to his NEWSIES, then addresses the SCABS.) Listen, fellas… I know somebody put youse up to this. Probably paid ya some extra money too. Yeah? Well, it ain’t right. Pulitzer thinks we’re gutter rats with no respect for nothin’, includin’ each other. Is that who we are? Well, we stab each other in the back and, yeah, that’s who we are. But if we stand together, we change the whole game. 26 And it ain’t just about us. All across this city there are boys and girls who ought to be out playin’ or going to school. Instead they’re slavin’ to support themselves and their folks. Ain’t no crime to bein’ poor, and not a one of us complains if the work we do is hard. All we ask is a square deal. Fellas… for the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory and slaughterhouse in this town, I beg you… throw down your papers and join the strike. LES: Please? SCAB 1: (The SCABS look at each other, and the first steps forward) I’m with ya. (The first SCAB throws down his papers. The NEWSIES surround the two remaining SCABS.) DAVEY: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY! NEWSIES: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY! DAVEY: ANSWER THE CALL AND DON'T DELAY! NEWSIES: ANSWER THE CALL AND DON'T DELAY! WRONGS WILL BE RIGHTED IF WE'RE UNITED! LET US SEIZE THE DAY! (The second SCAB throws down his papers and joins the NEWSIES. MORRIS DELANCY reaches for the bundle, but JACK stops him.) SCAB 3: You’re kidding, right? SCAB 2: At the end of the day, who are you gonna trust? (to DELANCEYS) Them… (to NEWSIES) or them? (The second SCAB throws his satchel back at WIESEL as the NEWSIES surround SCAB 3.) JACK: NOW LET 'EM HEAR IT LOUD AND CLEAR! NEWSIES: NOW LET 'EM HEAR IT LOUD AND CLEAR! JACK: LIKE IT OR NOT, WE'RE DRAWING NEAR! NEWSIES: LIKE IT OR NOT, WE'RE DRAWING NEAR! PROUD AND DEFIANT, WE'LL SLAY THE GIANT! JUDGMENT DAY IS HERE! (The third SCAB throws down his papers.) SCAB 3: Oh… who cares? Me father’s gonna kill me anyway! (The NEWSIES cheer.) NEWSIES: HOUSTON TO HARLEM, LOOK WHAT'S BEGUN! ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE! STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE, OH….. STRIKE! (JACK leads the NEWSIES in a triumphant dance. The DELANCEYS break in, punch DAVEY and JACK, and grab LES. The rest of the NEWSIES save LES, chase them off, and celebrate.) NEWSIES: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY! THEY'RE GONNA SEE THEY’LL HAVE TO PAY! NOTHING CAN BREAK US NO ONE CAN MAKE US QUIT BEFORE WE'RE DONE! ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE! (KATHERINE arrives with her PHOTOGRAPHER, who shoots a triumphant photo of JACK, DAVEY, LES, and the NEWSIES. The ecstatic NEWSIES toss newspapers all over the square.) #10A- Seize The Day (Tag)- Newsies 27 NEWSIES: NEWSIES FOREVER! SECOND TO NONE! ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR… ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR…

(The gates swing open to reveal WIESEL, the DELANCEYS, and several GOONS. The NEWSIES stop dead in their tracks. – then a fight ensues.) #11- The Fight WIESEL: Time these kids learned a lesson. (The MEN advance.) JACK: Newsies! Get ‘em! (The NEWSIES run to the wagons and toss bundles of papers at the MEN. The MEN surge forward and the fight is more or less even. Suddenly a POLICEMEN appears and blows his whistle. ROMEO runs excitedly to him.) ROMEO: It’s about time you showed up. They’re slaughtering us— (The POLICEMAN smacks ROMEO to the ground. SNYDER appears.) JACK: Cheese it, fellas! It’s the bulls! (As more POLICEMEN arrive, many NEWSIES take flight. Some are hit, others are snatched up and taken away. The NEWSIES are helpless against the MEN. SNYDER appears.) SYNDER: You can’t run forever, Kelly! (JACK sees SNYDER and starts to make his escape.) CRUTCHIE: Jack? Wait for me! (JACK reaches back for CRUTCHIE, but he is grabbed by OSCAR and MORRIS DELANCEY. JACK continues to run.) OSCAR: (to CRUTCHIE) Where ya think you’re goin’? CRUTCHIE: Jack! Help! Romeo! Albert! Finch! MORRIS: Shut it, Crip. (MORRIS punches CRUTCHIE, knocking him to the ground. SNYDER beats him with his crutch and slaps on handcuffs.) SNYDER: It’s off to The Refuge with you, little man. (to the POLICEMAN) Take him away. (JACK watches as the POLICEMAN drags CRUTCHIE off.) JACK: Crutchie! SNYDER: Jack Kelly! (JACK ducks out of the square and runs to the safety of his rooftop.) SCENE NINE: Rooftop (Papers flutter down on the emptying square under a haunting moon. Lost in the wreckage of the failed protest below, JACK paces, desolate.) #12- Santa Fe- Jack JACK: FOLKS, WE FINALLY GOT OUR HEADLINE "NEWSIES CRUSHED AS BULLS ATTACK" CRUTCHIE'S CALLING ME POOR CRIP'S JUST MOVES TOO SLOW GUYS ARE FIGHTIN', BLEEDIN', FALLIN' THANKS TO GOOD OLE' CAPTAIN JACK CAPTAIN JACK JUST WANTS TO CLOSE HIS EYES AND GO! LET ME GO FAR AWAY SOMEWHERE THEY WON'T EVER FIND ME AND TOMORROW WON’T REMIND ME OF TODAY AND THE CITY’S FINALLY SLEEPIN’ AND THE MOON LOOKS OLD AND GREY 28 I GET ON A TRAIN THAT’S BOUND FOR SANTA FE AND I’M GONEAND I’M DONE NO MORE RUNNING. NO MORE LYING NO MORE FAT OLD MAN DENYING ME MY PAY JUST A MOON SO BIG AND YELLOW, IT TURNS NIGHT RIGHT INTO DAY DREAMS COME TRUE. YEAH THEY DO. IN SANTA FE WHERE DOES IT SAY YOU GOTTA LIVE AND DIE HERE? WHERE DOES IT SAY A GUY CAN’T CATCH A BREAK? WHY SHOULD YOU ONLY TAKE WHAT YOU’RE GIVEN? WHY SHOULD YOU SPEND YOUR WHOLE LIFE LIVING TRAPPED WHERE THERE AIN’T NO FUTURE EVEN AT 17! BREAKING YOUR BACK FOR SOMEONE ELSE’S SAKE! IF THE LIFE DON’T SEEM TO SUIT YOU, HOW ABOUT A CHANGE OF SCENE? FAR FROM THE LOUSY HEADLINES, AND THE DEADLINES IN BETWEEN SANTA FE, MY OLD FRIEND I CAN’T SPEND MY WHOLE LIFE DREAMING THOUGH I KNOW THAT’S ALL I SEEM INCLINED TO DO I AIN’T GETTING ANY YOUNGER AND I WANNA START BRAND NEW I NEED SPACE. AND FRESH AIR LET ‘EM LAUGH IN MY FACE. I DON’T CARE SAVE MY PLACE, I’LL BE THERE JUST BE REAL IS ALL I’M ASKING NOT SOME PAINTING IN MY HEAD CAUSE I’M DEAD IF I CAN’T COUNT ON YOU TODAY I GOT NOTHING IF I AIN’T GOT SANTA FE! (End of Act One.) 29 ACT TWO SCENE ONE: Jacobi’s Deli, Next Morning #12A- Entr’acte (DAVEY and the NEWSIES are quietly ignoring their drinks. MS. JACOB enters.) MS. JACOBI: Drink up, boys. And don’t never say I don’t give you nothing. And before you say water is nothing, just ask a fish in the desert. (MS. JACOBI exits.) FINCH: Why do old people talk? RACE: To prove they’re still alive. (KATHERINE arrives with a newspaper.) KATHERINE: Good morning, gentlemen. Would you get a load of these glum mugs? Can these really be the same boys who made front page of the New York Sun? ROMEO: Front page of what? (The NEWSIES rush towards KATHERINE and snatch the paper.) SALAMI: Lemme see! Lemme see! BUDDY: Look at that!? RACE: Would you lookit? Dat’s me! Dat’s me! JO JO: Front page and you ain’t even dead. TOMMY BOY: There I am! (Pointing to the paper) ROMEO: Where’s me? Where’s me? BUTTONS: Wait till my old man gets a load of dis. I won’t be last in line for the tub tonight.

DAVEY: (to KATHERINE) You got us the pape? KATHERINE: You got yourself in the pape. MUSH: “Newsies Stop the World”- now, there’s a headline even Elmer could sell! ELMER: Hey! SPECS: What else do you got? KATHERINE: Mine’s the only story that ran. Pulitzer declared a blackout on strike news, so even I’m shut down now. I heard they arrested Crutchie. Did they get Jack too? ALBERT: The Delanceys are spreading a story that he took it on the lam, first sight of the cops. LES: (charges ALBERT) Jack don’t run from no fight! ALBERT: Take it down, short-stop. I’m just reportin’ the news. CRISS-CROSS: Where’d he go? SPLASHER: I checked the usual places. No luck. CURLY: Wonder where he ended up? RACE: For jumpin’ Jack’s sake. Can you stow the seriosity long enough to drink in the moment? I’m famous! HENRY: What of it? RACE: Are you stupid or what? You’re famous, the world is your erster? HENRY: Your what? RACE: Your erster! Your erster! Your fancy clam with a pearl inside. HENRY: How much does bein’ famous pay? RACE: Ya don’t need money when you’re famous. They gives ya whatever ya want gratis! HENRY: Such as...? 30 #13- King of New York- Davey, Katherine, Les, Newsies RACE: A PAIR OF NEW SHOES WITH MATCHIN' LACES... ROMEO: A PERMANENT BOX AT THE SHEEPSHEAD RACES... HENRY: PASTRAMI ON RYE WITH A SOUR PICKLE... FINCH: MY PERSONAL PUSS ON A WOODEN NICKLE.. RACE: LOOK AT ME: I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! SUDDENLY I'M RESPECTABLE, STARING RIGHT AT' CHA, LOUSY WITH STA'CHA. ALBERT: NOBBIN' WITH ALL THE MUCKETY- MUCKS, I'M BLOWING MY DOUGH AND GOIN' DELUXE. RACE: AND THERE I BE! AIN'T I PRETTY? RACE & HENRY: IT'S MY CITY. I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! JO JO: A SOLID GOLD WATCH WITH A CHAIN TO TWIRL IT... LES: MY VERY OWN BED AND A INDOOR TERLET... MUSH: A BARBERSHOP HAIRCUT THAT COSTS A QUARTER... DAVEY: (indicating KATHERINE) A REGULAR BEAT FOR THE STAR REPORTER! RACE: AM-SCRAY, PUNK, SHE'S THE KING OF NEW YORK! KATHERINE: WHO'D'A THUNK! I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! NEWSIES: WE WAS SUNK, PALE AND PITIFUL, KATHERINE: BUNCH OF WET NOODLES, KATHERINE & NEWSIES: PULITZER'S POODLES. LES: ALMOST ABOUT TO DROWN IN THE DRINK, BUTTONS: WHEN SHE FISHED US OUT RACE: AND DROWNED US IN INK! KATHERINE: SO LET'S GET DRUNK! NEWSIES: YEAH! KATHERINE: NOT WITH LIQUOR. FAME WORKS QUICKER WHEN YOUR KING OF NEW YORK. NEWSIES: I GOTTA BE EITHER DEAD OR DREAMIN', ' CAUSE LOOK AT THAT PAPE WITH MY FACE BEAMIN'. TOMORROW THEY MAY WRAP FISHES IN IT, BUT I WAS A STAR FOR ONE WHOLE MINUTE! (The NEWSIES and KATHERINE dance in the deli.) KATHERINE AND NEWSIES: LOOK AT ME! I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! WAIT AND SEE: THIS GONNA MAKE BOTH DELANCEYS PEE IN THEIR PANT-SIES. FLASHPOTS ARE SHOOTIN' BRIGHT AS THE SUN! I'M ONE HIHFALLUTIN' SON-OF-A-GUN! I GUARANTEE: THOUGH I CRAPPED OUT, I AIN'T TAPPED OUT! I'M THE KING OF NEW- 31 FRIENDS MAY FLEE. LET 'EM DITCH 'YA! SNAP ONE PIT'CHA, YOU'RE THE KING OF NEWHISTORY! FRONT PAGE STORY, GUTS AND GLORY, I'M THE KING… OF NEW YORK! #13A- King of New York (Tag) SCENE TWO: The Refuge #14- Letter From The Refuge- Crutchie (In an empty corner, CRUTCHIE is sitting on a bed holding a pencil and paper. A lighted candle sits nearby. Other REFUGE KIDS are sleeping on the floor around him. He reads what he’s written.) CRUTCHIE: “ Dear Jack. Greetings from The Refuge! HOW ARE YOU? I'M OKAY GUESS I WASN'T MUCH HELP YESTERDAY SNYDER SOAKED ME REAL GOOD WITH MY CRUTCH (writes) OH YEAH, JACK? THIS IS CRUTCHIE BY THE WAY (back to reading) THESE HERE GUARDS, THEY IS RUDE THEY SAY "JUMP BOY, YOU JUMP OR YOU'RE SCREWED!" BUT THE FOOD AIN'T SO BAD LEAST SO FAR, 'CAUSE SO FAR, THEY AIN'T BRUNG US NO FOOD! HA, HA I MISS THE ROOFTOP (stops reading, daydreams) SLEEPING RIGHT OUT IN THE OPEN IN YOUR PENTHOUSE IN THE SKY THERE'S A COOL BREEZE BLOWIN' EVEN IN JULY (stops daydreaming, continues reading) ANY WAY, SO GUESS WHAT! THERE'S THIS SECRET ESCAPE PLAN I'VE GOT! TIE A SHEET TO BED, TOSS THE END OUT THE WINDOW CLIMB DOWN AND TAKE OFF LIKE A SHOT! MAYBE THOUGH, NOT TONIGHT I AIN'T SLEPT, AND MY LEG STILL AIN'T RIGHT!

BUT HEY, PULITZER! HE'S GOIN' DOWN! THEN JACK, I WAS THINKING WE MIGHT JUST GO, LIKE YOU WAS SAYIN' (daydreaming again) WHERE IT'S CLEAN AND GREEN AND PRETTY WITH NO BUILDINGS IN YOUR WAY AND YOUR RIDING PALOMINOS, EVERY DAY! ONCE THAT TRAIN MAKES (A KID on the bed kicks CRUTCHIE.) REFUGE KID REGGIE: Shut it crip. CRUTCHIE: Sorry. Ugh. This place (back to reading) I'LL BE FINE. GOOD AS NEW BUT THERE'S ONE THING I NEED YA TO DO 32 ON THE ROOFTOP YOU SAID THAT A FAM'LY LOOKS OUT FOR EACH OTHER SO TELL ALL THE FELLAS FROM ME, TO PROTECT ONE ANOTHER! (pauses, writes) THE END. YOUR FRIEND... (thinks, writes) YOUR BEST FRIEND... (hesitates, then crosses it out, writes) YOUR BROTHER...CRUTCHIE.” SNYDER: (offstage) You in there- pipe down! (CRUTCHIE blows out the candle.). #14A- Letter From the Refuge (Playoff) SCENE THREE: Medda’s Theater (JACK paints a backdrop of the Taos Mountains. It’s almost finished. MEDDA enters in a dressing robe.) MEDDA: Here’s everything I owe you for the first backdrop, plus this one, and even a little something extra just account’a because I’m gonna miss you so. (MEDDA hands JACK an envelope full of money.) JACK: Miss Medda. MEDDA: Jack. JACK: You’re a gem. MEDDA: Just tell me you’re going somewhere and not running away. JACK: Does it matter? MEDDA: When you go somewhere and it turns out not to be the right place, you can always go somewhere else. But you’re running away, nowhere’s ever the right place. (DAVEY finds his way in through the stage flies, excited to see JACK.) DAVEY: How ‘bout lettin’ a pal know you’re alive? MEDDA: I’ll leave you with your friend. (MEDDA exits.) DAVEY: Where’d you go? We couldn’t find you. JACK: Ever think I didn’t wanna be found? DAVEY: (indicating the backdrop) Is that a real place? That Santa Fe? (suddenly remembering, holds out the newspaper) Hey! You see the pape? We’re front page news, above the fold. Oh, yes. Above the fold. JACK: Good for you. DAVEY: Everyone wants to meet the famous Jack Kelly. Even Spot Conlon sent a kid just to say: next even you can count on Brooklyn. How about that? JACK: We got stomped into the ground. DAVEY: They got us this time. I’ll grant you that. But we took round one. And with the press like this our fight is far from over. JACK: Every Newsie who could walk showed up this morning to sell papes like the strike never happened. DAVEY: And I was there with them. If I don’t sell papes, my folks don’t eat. JACK: Save your breath. I get it. It’s hopeless. DAVEY: But then I saw this look on Weasel’s face; he was actually nervous. And I realized this isn’t over. We got them worried. Really worried. And I walked away. Lots of other kids did, too. And that is what you call a beginning. (LES enters, calling to KATHERINE behind him.) LES: There he is, just like I said. JACK: For cryin’ out loud... where’s a fella gotta go to get away from you people? DAVEY: There’s no escapin’ us, pal. We’re inevitable. 33 LES: (to DAVEY) So, what’s the story? Can we have the theater? DAVEY: Pipe down. I didn’t ask yet. LES: What’s the hold up? I need to let my girl know we’ve got a date. DAVEY: Your girl? LES: You heard me. I’ve been swattin’ skirts away all morning. Fame is one intoxicatin’ potion. And this girl, Sally, she’s a plum. JACK: (sees KATHERINE) Word is you wrote a great story. KATHERINE: (tentatively approaches JACK) You look terrible. LES: (studying the painting) Hey, Jack. Where’s that supposed to be? JACK: It’s Santa Fe. KATHERINE: I’ve got to tell you, Jack, this “Go west, young man” routine is getting tired. Evan Horace Greeley moved back to New York. LES: Yes, he did. And then he died. JACK: Ain’t reporters supposed to be non-partisan? KATHERINE: Ask a reporter. Pulitzer’s had me blacklisted from every news desk in town— LES: Can we table the palaver and get back to business? Will Medda let us have the theater? DAVEY: (to JACK) it’s what I been trying to tell you: we want to hold a rally – a citywide meeting where every Newsie gets a say and a vote. And we do it after working hours so no one loses a day’s pay. Smart?

JACK: Smart enough to get you committed to a padded room. KATHERINE: The guy who paints places he’s never seen is calling us crazy? JACK: Want to see a place I seen? How about this? #14B- Jack’s Painting (JACK turns the backdrop around and reveals a large, passionately executed political cartoon of the Newsies being crushed by Pulitzer in Newsie Square. DAVEY, LES, and KATHERINE stare in awe.) JACK: Newsie Square, thanks to my big mouth, filled to overflowing with failure. Kids hurt, others arrested— DAVEY: Lighten up. No one died. JACK: Is that what you’re aiming for? Go on and call me a quitter, call me a coward. No way I’m puttin’ them kids back in danger. DAVEY: We’re doing something that has never been done before. How could that not be dangerous? JACK: Specs brung me a note from Crutchie at The Refuge. I tried to see him. Climbed down the fire escape. But they busted him up so bad he couldn’t even come to the window. What if he don’t make it? You willing to shoulder that for a tenth of a penny a pape? DAVEY: It’s not about pennies. You said it yourself: my family wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in now if my father had a union. This is a fight we have to win. JACK: If I wanted a sermon, I’d show up for church. #15- Watch What Happens (Reprise)- Davey, Jack, Katherine, Les DAVEY: Tell me how quitting does Crutchie does any good? (JACK doesn’t answer him.) Exactly. So... HERE'S HOW IT GOES, ONCE WE WIN AND WE "WILL" BE WINNING, MAKE NO MISTAKE JACK: WE'LL BE WHAT? DAVEY: WE'RE ALREADY WINNING 34 JACK: RIGHT DAVEY: AND WE'LL TELL THEM STRAIGHT OUT THEY LET CRUTCHIE GO OR THEY KEEP GETTING POUNDED JACK: DAVE, WHAT THE HECK? DID THEY BUST UP YOUR BRAINS OR SOMETHIN'? AS I RECALL, DAVE WE ALL GOT OUR BUTTS KICKED, THEY WON. DAVEY: WON THE BATTLE. JACK: OH COME ON DAVEY: JACKIE, THINK ABOUT IT, WE GOT THEM SURRONDED JACK: HERE'S WHAT I THINK, JOE'S A JERK! HE'S A RATTLE SNAKE DAVEY: YOU'RE RIGHT! AND YOU KNOW WHY A SNAKE STARTS TO RATTLE? JACK: NO WHY? DAVEY: ‘CAUSE HE'S SCARED. JACK: SURE. DAVEY: GO AND LOOK IT UP. THE POOR GUY'S HEAD IS SPINNING. WHY WOULD HE SEND FOR THE GOONS, AN ENTIRE ARMY? DOZENS OF GOONS AND COPS, ANDJACK: YOU KNOW YOU MAY BE RIGHT DAVEY: THANK YOU, GOD! JACK: IF HE WASN'T AFRAID - DAVEY: EXACTLY! JACK & DAVEY: HE KNOWS WE'RE WINNING JACK, DAVEY, KATHERINE, AND LES: GET THOSE KIDS TO SEE WE'RE CIRCLING VICTORY AND WATCH WHAT HAPPENS WE'RE DOING SOMETHING NO ONE'S EVEN TRIED AND YES, WE'RE TERRIFIED BUT WATCH WHAT HAPPENS JACK: YOU CAN'T UNDO THE PAST DAVEY: SO JUST MOVE ON DAVEY & KATHERINE: AND STAY ON TRACK LES: STAY ON TRACK JACK, DAVEY, KATHERINE, AND LES: ‘CAUSE HUMPTY DUMPTY IS ABOUT TO CRACK KATHERINE: WE'VE GOT FAITH! DAVEY: WE'VE GOT THE PLAN! LES: AND WE'VE GOT JACK! JACK, DAVEY, KATHERINE, AND LES: SO JUST WATCH WHAT HAPPENS... WE'RE BACK! LES: And I've got a date! #15A- Back to Pulitzer’s Office 35 SCENE FOUR: Pulitzer’s Office & Cellar, Afternoon (The MAYOR, SEITZ, BUNSEN, and PULITZER are in a heated discussion. KATHERINE sits, listening quietly.) MAYOR: ...but I’ve read your editorials, Mr. Pulitzer. How can you express so much sympathy for the trolley workers and yet have none for the Newsies? PULITZER: Because the trolley workers are striking for a fair contract. The Newsies are striking against me! MAYOR: I’d spare you the embarrassment if I could, but Miss Medda’s Theater is private property. BUNSEN: He can’t order a raid without legal cause. PULITZER: Mr. Mayor, would the fact that this rally is organized by an escaped convict be enough to shut it down? MAYOR: An escaped convict? PULITZER: A fugitive from one of your own institutions. A convicted thief, at large, reeking mischief on our law-abiding community. (turns his desk chair around to reveal SNYDER and holds out the newspaper.) Mr. Snyder, which one is he? SNYDER: (pointing to the photo) That one there: Jack Kelly. MAYOR: And how do you know this boy? SNYDER: His is not a pleasant story. He was the first sentenced to my Refuge for loitering and vagrancy,

but his total disregard for authority has made him a frequent visitor. MAYOR: You called him a thief and escaped convict. SNYDER: After his release I caught him myself, red-handed, trafficking stolen food and clothing. He was last sentenced to six months, but the willful ruffian escaped. PULITZER: So you’d be doing the city a service removing this criminal from our streets. MAYOR: If that’s the case, we can take him in quietly and— PULITZER: (exploding) What good would quiet do me??? I want a public example made of him!!! (HANNAH rushes into the office.) HANNAH: Mr. Pulitzer- the boy, Jack Kelly, is here. PULITZER: Here? HANNAH: Just outside. He’s asked to see you. PULITZER: Ask and ye shall be received. Mr. Snyder, if you please. Sit. (PULITZER directs SNYDER to retreat to the shadowy corner and spins KATHERINE in the swivel chair so she’s hidden as well. HANNAH escorts JACK into the room.) HANNAH: Mr. Jack Kelly. JACK: Afternoon, boys... PULITZER: And which Jack Kelly is this? The charismatic union organizer, or the petty thief and escaped convict? JACK: Which one gives us more in common? PULITZER: Impudence is in bad taste when crawling for mercy. JACK: Crawlin’? That’s a laugh, I just dropped by with an invite. Seems a few hundred of your employees are rallying to discuss recent disagreements. I thought it only fair to invite you to state your case straight to the fellas. So what’d’ya say, Joe? Want I should save you a spot on the bill? PULITZER: You are as shameless and disrespectful a creature as I was told. Do you know what I was doing when I was your age, boy? I was fighting in a war. JACK: Yeah? How’d that turn out for ya? PULITZER: It taught me a lesson that shaped my life. You don’t win a war on the battlefield. It’s the 36 headline that crowns the victor. JACK: I’ll keep that in mind when New York wakes up to front-page photos of our rally. PULITZER: Rally till the cows come home. Not a paper in town will publish a word. And if it’s not in the papers, it never happened. JACK: You may run this city, but there are some of us who can’t be bullied. Even some reporters... PULITZER: Such as that young woman who made you yesterday’s news? Talented girl. And beautiful as well, don’t you think? JACK: I’ll tell her you said so. PULITZER: No need. She can hear for herself. Can’t you, darling? Katherine stands up. JACK steps back in surprise.) I trust you know my daughter, Katherine. (lets that sink in) Yes. My daughter. You are probably asking, why the nom de plume and why doesn’t my daughter work for me? Good questions. I offered Katherine a life of wealth and leisure. Instead she chose to pursue a career. And she was showing real promise, until this recent lapse. But you’re done with all of that now, are you, sweetheart? KATHERINE: Jack, I— PULITZER: Don’t trouble the boy with your problems, dearest. Mr. Kelly has a plateful of his own. Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Snyder? (SNYDER steps into sight.) SNYDER: Hello, Jack. (JACK tries to run for the door, but is stopped by the DELANCYES. He realizes he’s trapped.) PULITZER: Ow! Does anyone else feel a noose tightening? But allow me to offer an alternate scenario: you attend the rally and speak against this hopeless strike, and I’ll see your criminal record expunged and your pockets filled with enough cash to carry you, in a first-class train compartment, from New York to New Mexico and beyond. (to KATHERINE) You did say he wanted to travel west, didn’t you? JACK: There ain’t a person in this room who don’t know you stink. PULITZER: And if they know me, they know I don’t care. Mark my words, boy. Defy me, and I will have you and every one of your friends locked up in The Refuge. I know you’re Mr. Tough Guy, but it’s not right to condemn that little crippled boy to conditions like that. And what about your pal Davey and his baby brother, ripped from their loving family and tossed to the rats? Will they ever be able to thank you enough? #16- The Bottom Line (Reprise)- Pulitzer, Seitz, Bunsen PULITZER: TIME’S RUNNING OUT, KID SO WHAT DO YOU SAY?

COWBOY OR CONVICT, I WIN EITHER WAY! YOUR ABJECT SURRENDER WAS ALWAYS THE BOTTOM LINE! PULITZER: Gentlemen, escort our guest to the cellar so he might reflect in solitude. (The DELANCEYS lead JACK out of the office and into the cellar.) TOO BAD YOU’VE NO JOB, JACK, BUT YOU DID RESIGN TOO BAD YOU’VE NO FAMILY, BUT YOU CAN’T HAVE MINE BE GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE, BOY- I’D SAY THAT’S THE BOTTOM LINE SEITZ: LIKE THE PIED PIPER YOU KNEW WHAT TO PLAY PULITZER: TILL THOSE KIDS ALL BELIEVED YOU WERE RIGHT BUNSEN: LUCKY FOR THEM ALL BUT ONE GOT AWAY PULITZER: THEY MAY NOT BE SO LUCKY TONIGHT The DELANCEYS deposit JACK in a dark space populated with nothing but a printing press.) MORRIS: We been given discretion to handle you as we see fit, so behave. 37 OSCAR: But, just in case, I been polishin’ my favorite brass knuckles. (Morris pulls the dust-covered tarp off of the old press and tosses it to JACK.) MORRIS: You can sleep right here on this old printing press. (slaps the hard surface) Now that there is firm. (OSCAR and MORRIS exit as JACK hopelessly takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, a familiar drumbeat sounds in military style. Voices are heard offstage.) #17- Brooklyn’s Here- Spot, Newsies SPOT: Come on Brooklyn! BROOKLYN NEWSIES: Newsies need our help today! (Newsies need our help today) Tell 'em Brooklyn's on their way! (Tell ‘em Brooklyn’s on their way!) We're from... (Brooklyn!) We are... (Newsies!) We are… (Brooklyn) Newsies! (The scene shifts to the Brooklyn Bridge as a cavalry of BROOKLYN NEWSIES make their way to the rally.) SCENE FIVE: Brooklyn Bridge & Medda’s Theater, Evening BROOKLYN NEWSIES: JUST GOT WORD THAT OUR BUDDIES IS HURTIN', FACIN' TOTAL DISASTER FOR CERTAIN. THAT'S OUR CUE, BOYS: IT'S TIME TO GO SLUMMIN'. HEY MANHATTAN, THE CAVALRY'S COMIN'! BROOKLYN NEWSIES GROUP 1: HAVE NO FEAR! BROOKLYN NEWSIES GROUP 2: YOU KNOW WE GOT YOUR BACK FROM WAY BACK! BROOKLYN NEWSIES GROUP 1: BROOKLYN'S HERE! BROOKLYN NEWSIES GROUP 2: WE'LL GET YOU PAY BACK WITH SOME PAYBACK! BROOKLYN NEWSIES: WE'RE THE BOYS FROM THE BEACHES OF BRIGHTON, PROSPECT PARK AND THE NAVY YARD PIER. STRIKES AIN'T FUN, BUT THEY SURE IS EXCITIN'. LOUD AND CLEAR! BROOKLYN'S HERE! SPOT: BOROUGH WHAT GAVE ME BIRTH, BROOKLYN NEWSIES: FRIENDLIEST PLACE ON EARTH. PAY US A VISIT AND SEE WHAT WE MEAN, AND WHEN YA DO, (WHEN YA DO, WHEN YA DO) WE'LL KICK YA HALFWAY TO QUEENS! (The BROOKLYN NEWSIES arrive at Medda’s Theater. With JACK’s political cartoon of Newsie Square as the backdrop, the theater begins to fill with NEWSIES from all five boroughs, singing and waving banners and placards.) BROOKLYN NEWSIES: NOW THEM SOAKERS IS IN FOR A SOAKIN'. WHAT A SAD WAY TO END A CAREER. THEY'S A JOKE, BUT IF THEY THINKS WE'RE JOKIN'. LOUD AND CLEAR! MANHATTAN NEWSIES: MANHATTAN'S HERE! FLUSHING NEWSIES: FLUSHING'S HERE! RICHMOND NEWSIES: RICHMOND'S HERE! WOODSIDE NEWSIES: WOODSIDE'S HERE! BRONX NEWSIE: SO'S DA BRONX! BROOKLYN NEWSIES: BROOKLYN'S HERE! ALL NEWSIES: LOUD AND CLEAR: WE IS HERE!! 38 (The NEWSIES go crazy. LES is seated with SALLY. SPOT shakes hands with DAVEY in the center of the stage as MEDDA steps forward.) MEDDA: Welcome, Newsies of New York City. Welcome to my theater and your revolution! (CROWD cheers.) DAVEY: Let’s here it for Spot Conlon and Brooklyn! SPOT: Newsies united! Let’s see what Pulitzer has to say to you now. SALLY: Hey Les, where’s Jack? FINCH: Yeah Davey, where is Jack? NEWSIES: Yeah. We want Jack! Where is he? (DAVEY looks to MEDDA for help.) MEDDA: Sorry, kid. No sign of him yet. Looks like you’re doing a solo. NEWSIES: JACK! JACK! JACK! JACK! (DAVEY timidly takes the stage.) DAVEY: Newsies of New York... look at what we’ve done! We’ve got Newsies from every pape and every neighborhood here tonight. Tonight you’re making history. (NEWSIES cheer.) Tonight we declare that we’re just as much a part of the newspaper as any reporter or editor. (The cheers grow louder.) We’re done being treated like kids. From now on they will treat us as equals. (JACK appears from the back of the theater and starts down the aisle.)

JACK: You wanna be talked to like an adult? Then start actin’ like one. Don’t just run your mouth. Make some sense. DAVEY: And here’s Jack! NEWSIES: Jack! Jack! Jack! (JACK climbs up onto the stage as DAVEY heaves a sigh of relief. KATHERINE has arrived and stands in the balcony.) JACK: (quieting the NEWSIES) All right. Pulitzer raised the price of papes without so much as a word to us. That was a lousy thing to do. (The NEWSIES cheer.) So we got made and let ‘em know we ain’t gonna be pushed around. (More cheers.) So we go on strike. Then what happens? Pulitzer lowers the price so’s we’ll go back to work! And a few weeks later he hikes the price back up again, and don’t think he won’t. so what do we do then? And what do we do if he decides to raise his price again after that? (Davey and the NEWSIES look to each other, confused by what JACK is saying.) Fellas, we gotta be realistic. We don’t work, we don’t get paid. How many days can you go without makin’ money? However long, believe me, Pulitzer can go longer. (The NEWSIES boo.) But I have spoken to Mr. Pulitzer and he has given me his word: if we disband the union, he will not raise prices again for two years. He will even put it in writing. (The boos are now drowning out JACK.) I say we take the deal. Go back to work knowing that our price is secure. All we need to do is vote “NO” on the strike. Vote “NO”! (The boos overwhelm JACK. He walks toward the wings, where BUNSEN is waiting with a wad of cash. He holds out the money out and JACK pockets it, looking around guiltily. LES reaches out, but JACK muscles him away and rushes out. The NEWSIES are furious, and their booing echoes across the theater, and the city, as the scene transitions...) SCENE SIX: Rooftop, Night #17A- To The Rooftop (KATHERINE has discovered JACK’s drawings stuffed in an air vent pipe and opens them up. JACK arrives.) KATHERINE: That was some speech you made. JACK: How’d you get here? 39 KATHERINE: Specs showed me. JACK: (snatches his drawings) He say you could go through my stuff? KATHERINE: I saw them rolled up, sticking out of there. I didn’t know what they were. These drawings...? These are drawings of The refuge, aren’t they? (takes the drawings back and studies them closer) is this really what it’s like in there: three boys to a bed, rats everywhere, and vermin? JACK: A little different from where you were raised? KATHERINE: Snyder told my father you were arrested stealing food and clothing. This is why, isn’t it? You stole to feed those boys. (JACK, embarrassed, turns away.) I don’t understand. If you were willing to go to jail for those boys, how could you turn your back on them now? JACK: I don’t think you’re anyone to talk about turning on folks. KATHERINE: I never turned on you or anyone else. JACK: No. You just double crossed us to your father. Your father! KATHERINE: My father has eyes on every corner of this city. He doesn’t need me spying for him. And I never lied I didn’t tell you everything... JACK: If you weren’t a girl you’d be trying to talk with a fist in your mouth. KATHERINE: I said that I worked for the Sun, and I did. I told you my professional name was Plumber, and it is. You never asked my real one. JACK: I wouldn’t think I had to unless I knew I was dealing with a backstabber. KATHERINE: And if I was a boy, you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye. JACK: Don’t let that stop ya. Gimme your best shot. (JACK presents his face to her. KATHERINE, out of nowhere, grabs JACK and kisses him full on the lips. They part. A moment of silence and then JACK tries to get another kiss, but is blocked.) KATHERINE: I need to know you didn’t cave for the money. JACK: I spoke the truth. You win a fight when you got the other fella down eatin’ pavement. You heard your father. No matter how many days we strike, he ain’t givin’ up. I don’t now what else we can do. KATHERINE: Ah. But I do. JACK: Oh, come one... KATHERINE: Really, Jack? Really? Only you can have a good idea? Or is it because I’m a girl? JACK: I didn’t say nothin’...

KATHERINE: This would be a good time to shut up. Being boss doesn’t mean you have all the answers. Just the brains to recognize the right one when you hear it. JACK: I’m listening. KATHERINE: Good for you. The strike was your idea. The rally was Davey’s. and now my plan will take us to the finish line. Deal with it. (KATHERINE takes a piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to him.) JACK: (reading) “The Children’s Crusade”? KATHERINE: (snatches it back and reads) “For the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory, and slaughter house in New York. I beg you...join us.” With those words the strike stopped being just about the Newsies. You challenged our whole generation to stand up and demand a place at the table. JACK: “The Children’s Crusade”??? KATHERINE: Think, Jack, if we publish this- my words with one of your drawings- and if every worker under twenty-one read it and stayed home from work... or better yet, came to Newsie Square- a general city-wide strike! Even my father couldn’t ignore that. JACK: Only one small problem: we got no way to print it. KATHERINE: Come on, there has to be one printing press he doesn’t control. 40 JACK: (suddenly remembering) Oh no. KATHERINE: What? JACK: I know where there’s a printing press that no one would ever think we’d use. KATHERINE: Then why are we still standing here? (KATHERINE starts climbing down the fire escape ladder, but JACK stops her.) JACK: Wait. Stop. What’s this about for you? I don’t mean “The Children’s Crusade.” (indicating the two of them) What’s this about? Am I kiddin’ myself or is there something... KATHERINE: Of course there is. JACK: Well don’t say it like this happens every day! KATHERINE: Oh, Jack... JACK: I’m not an idiot. I know girls like you don’t wind up with guys like me. And I don’t want you promisin’ nothin’ you gotta take back later. But standing here tonight... lookin’ at you... I’m scared tomorrrow’s gonna come and change everything. #18- Something To Believe In- Katherine, Jack JACK: If there was a way I could grab hold of something to make time stop. Just so’s I could keep looking at you. KATHERINE: You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly. I never even saw it coming. JACK: For sure? KATHERINE: For sure. TIL THE MOMENT I FOUND YOU, I THOUGHT I KNEW WHAT LOVE WAS. NOW I'M LEARNING WHAT IS TRUE, THAT LOVE WILL DO WHAT IT DOES. THE WORLD FINDS WAYS TO STING YOU AND THEN ONE DAY, DECIDES TO BRING YOU SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN FOR EVEN A NIGHT. ONE NIGHT MAY BE FOREVER, BUT THAT'S ALRIGHT, THAT'S ALRIGHT. AND IF YOU'RE GONE TOMORROW, WHAT WAS OURS STILL WILL BE. I HAVE SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, NOW THAT I KNOW YOU BELIEVED IN ME. JACK: WE WAS NEVER MEANT TO MEET, AND THEN WE MEET, WHO KNOWS WHY. ONE MORE STRANGER ON THE STREET. JUST SOMEONE SWEET PASSIN' BY. AN ANGEL COME TO SAVE ME, WHO DIDN'T EVEN KNOW SHE GAVE ME SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN FOR EVEN A DAY. ONE DAY MAY BE FOREVER, BUT THAT'S OKAY, THAT'S OKAY. AND IF I'M GONE TOMORROW, WHAT WAS OURS STILL WILL BE. 41 I HAVE SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, NOW THAT I KNOW YOU BELIEVED IN ME. JACK AND KATHERINE: DO YOU KNOW WHAT I BELIEVE IN? LOOK INTO MY EYES AND SEE. (JACK and KATHERINE kiss until JACK pulls away.) JACK: If things were different... KATHERINE: What, if you weren't going to Santa Fe? JACK: And if you weren't an heiress. And if your father wasn't after my head. KATHERINE: (teasing) You're not really scared of my father. JACK: No, but I am pretty scared of you. KATHERINE: Don't be. JACK: AND IF I'M GONE TOMORROW... KATHERINE: WHAT WAS OURS STILL WILL BE. JACK AND KATHERINE: I HAVE SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, NOW THAT I KNOW YOU BELIEVED IN ME. JACK: I HAVE SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, JACK AND KATHERINE: NOW THAT I KNOW YOU BELIEVED IN ME. (Lights fade as a drumbeat is heard.) SCENE SEVEN: Pulitzer’s Cellar #19- Seize The Day (Reprise)- Newsies (In the semi-darkness, the NEWSIES cross the stage, lanterns in hand, spreading the news to NY CITIZENS in conspiratorial whispers.) NEWSIES: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY STARE DOWN THE ODDS AND SEIZE THE DAY

MINUTE BY MINUTE, THAT’S HOW YOU WIN IT. WE WILL FIND A WAY, BUT LET US SEIZE THE DAY. (JACK and KATHERINE enter the cellar. She hands him a ring of keys.) KATHERINE: I’ll get the lights. You get those windows unlocked. JACK: (goes to work undoing the window) You got enough keys here for the entire building. Has someone been picking daddy’s pockets? KATHERINE: The janitor’s been working here since he was eight year sold and hasn’t had a raise in twenty years. He’s with us one-hundred percent. (KATHERINE turns up the lights and uncovers the printing press. DAVEY, RACE, and a few other NEWSIES pour through the window. Two well-dressed kids, BILL and DARCY, go straight to work on the printing press.) JACK: (to DAVEY) You bring enough fellas to keep us covered? DAVEY: We could hold a hoe-down in here and no one would be the wiser. JACK: Good job. DAVEY: It’s good to have you back again. JACK: (apologizing, appreciatively, in his own way) Shut up. KATHERINE: Here she is, boys. Just think, while my father snores blissfully in his bed, we will be using his 42 very own press to bring him down. JACK: Remind me to stay on your good side. (RACE goes to the printing press) RACE: Is this what they print the papes on? DARCY: I can see why they tossed this old girl down to the cellar, but I think she will do the job. KATHERINE: Jack, this is Darcy. He knows just about everything there is to know about printing. JACK: You work for one of the papes? DARCY: My father owns the Trib. JACK: Whoa! KATHERINE: And this is Bill. He’ll be typesetting the article for us. JACK: (being funny) Bill? So I suppose you’re the son of William Randolph Hearst? BILL: And proud to be part of your revolution! JACK: (in awe) Ain’t that somethin’? KATHERINE: In the words of the little one, “Can we table the palaver and get down to business?” DARCY: A little grease and she’ll be good as gold. BILL: Great! Let’s get to work. #20- Once And For All- Jack, Davey, Katherine, Newsies DAVEY: All right. Here’s how it’ll work: as we print the papes, Race, you’ll let the fellas in and they’ll spread them to every workin’ kid in New York. After that…? (RACE takes his position at the window.) JACK: After that it’s up to them. THERE'S CHANGE COMIN' ONCE AND FOR ALL. YOU MAKES THE FRONT PAGE, AND MAN, YOU IS MAJOR NEWS. JACK & DAVEY: TOMORROW THEY'LL SEE WHAT WE ARE, JACK, DAVEY & KATHERINE: AND SURE AS STAR, WE AIN'T COME THIS FAR….TO LOSE! RACE: Here they come! (More NEWSIES take up their positions.) NEWSIES: THIS IS THE STORY WE NEEDED TO WRITE THAT’S BEEN KEPT OUT OF SIGHT, BUT NO MORE! IN A FEW HOURS, BY DAWN'S EARLY LIGHT WE'LL BE READY TO FIGHT US A WAR. THIS TIME WE'RE IN IT TO STAY. TALK ABOUT SEIZING THE DAY! JACK: WRITE IT IN INK OR IN BLOOD, IT'S THE SAME EITHER WAY: THEY'RE GONNA HAVE TO PAY! NEWSIES: SEE OL'MAN PULITZER SNUG IN HIS BED, HE DON'T CARE IF WE'RE DEAD OR ALIVE. THREE SATIN PILLOWS ARE UNDER HIS HEAD WHILE WE'RE BEGGIN' FOR BREAD TO SURVIVE. JOE, YOU CAN STOP COUNTIN' SHEEP. WE'RE GONNA SING YA TO SLEEP. THEN WHILE YA SNOOZE, WE’LL BE LIGHTIN’ A FUSE WITH A PROMISE WE’SE ACHIN’ TO KEEP. (BILL typesets the Newsies Banner.) JACK: ONCE AND FOR ALL, IF THEY DON'T MIND THEIR MANNERS WE'LL BLEED 'EM! NEWSIES: BLEED 'EM! 43 RACE: ONCE AND FOR ALL WE WON'T CARRY NO BANNERS THAT DON'T SPELL NEWSIES: “FREEDOM!" FIN'LLY WE'SE RAISIN' THE STAKES, THIS TIME WHATEVER IT TAKES, THIS TIME THE UNION AWAKES, ONCE AND FOR ALL! (DARCY pulls the first proof from the press and hands it to RACE. He passes it across the NEWSIES to KATHERINE.) KATHERINE: (reading) “In the words of union leader Jack Kelly, ‘We will work with you. We will even work for you. But we will be paid and treated as valuable members of your organizations.’” Riveting stuff, huh? JACK: (to KATHERINE) Get going. You’ve got a very important man to see. KATHERINE: Keep your fingers crossed. JACK: For us, too. (KATHERINE exits. The printing press churns away at a rhythmic pace. Papers are bundled. Bundles are passed between NEWSIES and collected for distribution.) NEWSIES:

THIS IS FOR KIDS SHININ' SHOES ON THE STREET WITH NO SHOES ON THEIR FEET EVERYDAY. THIS IS FOR GUYS SWEATIN' BLOOD IN THE SHOPS WHILE THE BOSSES AND COPS LOOK AWAY. I'M SEEIN' KIDS STANDIN' TALL, GLARING AND RARIN' TO BRAWL, ARMIES OF GUYS WHO ARE SICK OF THE LIES GETTIN' READY TO RISE TO THE CALL! ONCE AND FOR ALL THERE'LL BE BLOOD ON THE WALL IF THEY DOUBT US. THEY THINK THEY'RE RUNNING THIS TOWN BUT THIS TOWN WILL SHUT DOWN WITHOUT US! NEWSIES GROUP 1: TEN THOUSAND KIDS IN THE SQUARE! NEWSIES GROUP 2: TEN THOUSAND KIDS IN THE SQUARE NEWSIES GROUP 1: TEN THOUSAND FISTS IN THE AIR! NEWSIES GROUP 2: TEN THOUSAND FISTS! NEWSIES: JOE YOU IS GONNA PLAY FAIR, ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 1: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 2: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 1: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 2: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 1: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES GROUP 2: ONCE AND FOR ALL! (Ready to hit the streets, the NEWSIES raise their papers in defiance.) NEWSIES: THERE'S CHANGE COMIN' ONCE AND FOR ALL. YOU'RE GETTING TOO OLD, TOO WEAK TO KEEP HOLDIN' ON. A NEW WORLD IS GUNNIN' FOR YOU, AND JOE WE IS TOO, TILL ONCE AND FOR ALL, YOU'RE GONE! DAVEY: ONCE AND FOR ALL! JACK: ONCE AND FOR ALL! DAVEY, RACE, SPOT, MIKE, IKE, & MUSH: ONCE AND FOR ALL! NEWSIES: ONCE AND FOR ALL! (The sun rises as KATHERINE heads to her meeting, the Newsies Banner and JACK’s drawings in hand.) #20A- Once And For All (Playoff) 44 SCENE EIGHT: Pulitzer’s Office, Next Morning (The office is in full panic mode. HANNAH and BUNSEN scramble to answer phones as they continue to ring incessantly. PULITZER sits furiously at his desk.) HANNAH: (into the phone) I’m sorry, Mr. Pulitzer will have to call you back. BUNSEN: I’m sorry, but he’ll have to call you back. HANNAH: (next phone) He can’t talk. He’ll call you back— BUNSEN: I’m sorry, but he’ll— I’m sorry. I’m sorry. PULITZER: Silence those phones!!! (HANNAH and BUNSEN remove the receivers from their cradles.) BUNSEN: The entire city is shut down. No one is working anywhere. And everyone is blaming you. HANNAH: They’re all calling: the Mayor, the publishers, the manufacturers... and such language! (JACK, DAVEY, and SPOT enter merrily, chased by SEITZ.) SEITZ: You can’t just barge in... JACK: (offers up the Newsies Banner to PULITZER) How we doin’ this morning, gents? PULITZER: You’re behind this? We had a deal. JACK: (tosses bribe money on PULITZER’s desk) And it came with a money-back guarantee. And thanks for your lessons on the power of the press. SEITZ: (examining the article) Did you read this boss? These kids put out a pretty good paper. Very convincing. PULITZER: No doubt written by my daughter. JACK: (now reclining in an office chair) I’d sign her before someone else grabs her up. PULITZER: I demand to know who defied my ban on printing strike material! JACK: We’re your loyal employers. SPOT: We’d never take our business elsewhere. SEITZ: (examining the paper) The old printing press in the cellar. PULIZTER: (taking measured steps toward JACK) I made you the offer of a lifetime. Anyone who does not act in his own self-interest is a fool. DAVEY: What’s that make you? This all began because you wanted to sell more papers. But now your circulation is down seventy percent. Why didn’t you just come talk to us? JACK: Guys like Joe don’t talk with nothin’s like us. But a very wise reporter told me a real boss don’t need the answers. Just the smarts to snatch the right one when he hears it. (NEWSIES sing in Newsie Square below Pulitzer’s office.) #20B- Seize The Day (Reprise 2)- Newsies NEWSIES: NOW IS THE TIME TO SEIZE THE DAY STARE DOWN THE ODDS AND SEIZE THE DAY MINUTE BY MINUTE, THAT’S HOW YOU WIN IT WE WILL FIND A WAY. BUT LET US SEIZE THE DAY. HMMMMMM……(The NEWSIES continue to hum as a drum beats steadily.) SPOT: Have a look out there, Mr. Pulitzer. In case you ain’t figured it out, we got you surrounded. JACK: New York is closed for business. Paralyzed. You can’t get a paper or a shoe shine. You can’t send a

message or ride an elevator or cross the Brooklyn Bridge. You can’t even leave your own building. So, what’s your next move? (BUNSEN rushes back into the room in a tizzy.) BUNSEN: Mr. Pulitzer, the Mayor is here along with your daughter and... oh you’re not going to believe 45 who else! (In walk the MAYOR, KATHERINE, MEDDA, and GOVERNOR TEDDY ROOSEVELT.) MAYOR: Good morning, Mr. Pulitzer. I think you know the Governor. PULITZER: Governor Roosevelt? ROOSEVELT: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. What have you done now? PULITZER: I’m sure when you hear my explanation— ROOSEVELT: Thanks to Miss Medda Larkin bringing your daughter to my office, I already have a thorough grasp of the situation- graphic illustrations included. (brandishes JACK’s drawings) Bully is the expression I usually employ to show approval. But in your case I simply mean bully! (to KATHERINE, referring to JACK) Is this the boy of whom you spoke? KATHERINE: Yes Sir. ROOSEVELT: (to JACK) How are you, son? I’m told we once shared a carriage ride. JACK: Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Governor. ROOSEVELT: (to PULITZER) Well, Joe, don’t just stand there letting those children sing… endlessly. Give them the good news. PULITZER: What good news? ROOSEVELT: That you’ve come to your senses and rolled back your prices. Unless, of course, you want to invite a full state senate investigation into your employment practices. PULITZER: (red with anger) You wouldn’t— ROOSEVELT: After the pressure you wielded to keep me from office? I’d do it with a smile. Come along, Joseph. There’s only one thing worse than a hard heart, and that’s a soft head. (PULITZER growls and postures.) And think of the happiness you’ll bring those children. (to HANNAH) He doesn’t do happiness, does he? HANNAH: (hushed) No sir. PULITZER: (cornered, shifting tactics) Mr. Kelly, if I may speak to you...alone. (The OTHERS withdraw from the room.) ROOSEVELT: (to JACK) Keep your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ground. You can do this. (ROOSEVELT exits. JACK and PULITZER are alone.) PULITZER: I cannot put the price back where it was. (JACK starts to move away.) I’m sorry, I can’t. There are other considerations— JACK: I get it. You need to save face front of all these folks. I’m young, I ain’t stupid. PULITZER: Thank you for understanding. JACK: But I got constituents with a legitimate gripe. PULITZER: What if I reduce the raise by half and get the others to do the same? It’s a compromise we can all live with. JACK: (he thinks…) But you eat our losses. From now on, any papes we can’t sell, you buy back- full price. PULITZER: That’s never been on the table! What’s to stop Newsies from taking hundreds of papers they can’t sell? My costs will explode! JACK: No Newsie is gonna break his back haulin’ around papes he can’t sell. But if they can take a few more with no risk, they might sell ‘em and your circulation would begin to grow...(mocking PULITZER) “It’s a compromise we can all live with.” PULITZER: (calming considerably) That’s not a bad head you’ve got on your shoulders. JACK: Deal? (JACK spits in his hand and holds it out for PULITZER to shake.) PULITZER: That’s disgusting. JACK: Just the price of doing business. (PULITZER spits in his hand. JACK grabs it and shakes. Deal sealed.) 46 SCENE NINE: Newsie Square #21- Finale Ultimo (Part 1)- Company NEWSIES/BROOKLYN NEWSIES: AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW, WE BEEN KEEPIN’ SCORE EITHER THEY GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES THEM A WAR WE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG, AND WE PAID OUR DUES AND THE THINGS WE DO TODAY WILL BE TOMORROW’S NEWS. AND THE DIE IS CAST, AND THE TORCH IS PASSED NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND A ROAR WILL RISE… NEWSIES GROUP 2: … FROM THE STREETS BELOW NEWSIES GROUP 1: AND OUR RANKS WILL GROW NEWSIES: AND GROW AND GROW AND GROW AND GROW AND GROW AND…. (JACK, KATHERINE, MEDDA, SPOT, DAVEY, ROOSEVELT, and PULITZER come out to the square. PULITZER, ROOSEVELT, and JACK mount a raised platform to address the CROWD.) JACK: Newsies of New York City... we won!!! (The CROWD cheers. JACK quiets them.) And now I’d like to

introduce my own personal pal, Governor Theodore Roosevelt himself!!! (The CROWD cheers.) ROOSEVELT: (recognizing this historical moment) Each generation must, at the height of its power, step aside and invite the young to share the day. You have laid claim to our world and I believe the future, in your hands, will be bright and prosperous. (to JACK) And your drawings, son, have brought another matter to bear. (signaling offstage) Officers, if you please. (A police whistle sounds. CRUTCHIE appears, blowing the whistle and waiving.) RACE: Hey lookit, Jack. It’s Crutchie! NEWSIES: (ad lib) Crutchie! CRUTCHIE: Hiya, fellas. You miss me? NEWSIES: (ad lib) Yeah. Sure. Ain’t been the same without ya. CRUTCHIE: And lookit what I got yis: straight from The Refuge. (calling offstage) Bring him in, fellas! (Two POLICEMEN enter with SNYDER between them.) RACE: It’s Snyder the Spider! MUSH: He ain’t lookin’ so tough no more, is he? ROOSEVELT: Jack, with these drawings you made an eloquent argument for shutting down The Refuge. Be assured that Mr. Snyder’s abuses will be fully investigated. (to a POLICEMAN) Officer, take him away. CRUTCHIE: (to ROOSEVELT) Please, Your Highness... may I do the honors? (ROOSEVELT gives him the approval. CRUTCHIE slaps handcuffs onto SNYDER.) SNYDER: You’ve got to be joking. CRUTCHIE: And you’ll be laughing all the way to the pen, “little man.” (CRUTCHIE gives SYNDER a kick in the rear.) So long, sucker! JACK: Thank you, Governor. (JACK races down to embrace CRUTCHIE. PULITZER steps forward, snatching JACK’s drawings away from ROOSEVELT.) PULITZER: (to JACK) I can’t help thinking... if one of your drawings convinced the governor to close The Refuge, what might a daily political cartoon do the expose the dealings in our own government back rooms? (to ROOSEVELT) What do you say, Teddy? Care to have this young man’s artistry shine a lantern behind your closed doors? 47 JACK: Don’t sweat it, Gov. With the strike settled, I probably should be hitting the road. (DAVEY and KATHERINE move towards JACK.) DAVEY: Don’t you ever get tired of singing that same old tune? What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t? Tarantulas? KATHERINE: Better yet: what’s New York got that Santa Fe ain’t? CRUTCHIE: New York’s got us. And we’re family. PULITZER: (bellowing from above) Didn’t I hear something about a strike being settled? (WIESEL and the DELANCEYS open the distribution window as PULITZER exits.) WIESEL: Papes for the Newsies. Line up, boys. These papes ain’t gonna sell themselves. MEDDA: (exiting with ROOSEVELT) Come along, Governor, and show me that back seat I’ve been hearing so much about. KATHERINE: (teasing JACK) Well don’t just stand there, you’ve got a union to run. Besides, didn’t someone just offer you a pretty exciting job? JACK: Me work for your father? KATHERINE: You already work for my father. JACK: Oh, yeah. KATHERINE: And you’ve got one more ace up your sleeve. JACK: What would that be? KATHERINE: Me. Wherever you go, I’ll be right there by your side. JACK: For sure? KATHERINE: For sure. JACK: DON’T TAKE MUCH TO BE A DREAMER. ALL YOU DO IS CLOSE YOUR EYES. BUT SOME MADE-UP WORLD IS ALL YOU EVER SEE NOW MY EYES IS FINALLY OPEN. AND MY DREAMS, THEY’S AVERAGE SIZE BUT THEY DON’T MUCH MATTER IF YOU AIN’T WITH ME (JACK grabs KATHERINE in an embrace and they kiss.) LES: (pointing to the public display of affection) Guys! (The NEWSIES catcall and whistle their approval.) DAVEY: Well, Jack… you in or you out? (JACK leaves KATHERINE. With a big smile, he approaches WIESEL, slaps his money down on the counter, and snatches up his papes.) #21A-Finale Ultimo (Part 2)- Company COMPANY: WE'LL ALL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN! WE'RE ALWAYS OUT THERE, SOAKIN' EV'RY SUCKER THAT WE CAN. HERE'S THE HEADLINE: NEWSIES ON A MISSION! KILL THE COMPETITION! SELL THE NEXT EDITION! WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! SEE US OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! ALWAYS OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER! LOOK AT ME: I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK!

SUDDENLY I'M RESPECTABLE, STARIN' RIGHT AT'CHA, LOUSY WITH STA'CHA. GLORY BE! I'M THE KING OF NEW YORK! VICTORY! FRONT PAGE STORY GUTS AND GLORY I’M THE KING…OF NEW YORK! (BOWS.) THE END

[apollo-writes-random-shit]

“It’s a full moon tonight. That’s when all the weirdos are out.”

This was actually really fun and like Race, I’m fucking stupid when it comes to telling stories so it was fun to think of some.

Thanks for sending this request in!

“It’s a full moon tonight. That’s when all the weirdos are out.”

"Race...Ya out all the time."

Race huffed, ignoring the littles' giggles as he reached over to slap Albert over the back of the head. "Dumbass, let me talk! I wanna tell a story!"

Jack rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he sketched the scene from the corner of the room. "These kids better be able ta sleep tanight Higgins. I don't wanna be up all night cause you and your stories."

Race huffed, rolling his eyes. There went his plans for talking about a murderer...Time to rethink.

"Alright. Cause Jackie's a spoilsport, I'll change the story." He chuckled, shaking his head as his younger siblings started to complain. "Sorry kids. Gotta listen to the old man. He makes the rules here."

"I'se only a few years older than you!" Faking insult, Jack balled up his ratty blanket and threw it at Race, chuckling as it hit him in the face. "Get on with the story ya nerd!"

"Jesus fine!" Shaking his head, Race grinned, wrapping the blanket around himself. "Right. So the full moon is a magical time but also a dangerous time. While the moon gives us light on the streets, he also brings out mysterious dangers. It is said that if you stand in his light, your mind will be twisted." He grinned, happy to have everyone's eyes on him. "You'll start to feel new urges and will find yaself wanting to do things ya've never heard of before."

"Like what?"

"Well, my dear Kai, I'm glad you asked. Have you ever heard of the sirens?"

"No?"

"Well, it's said that if you stand on the bridge with the full moon shining down, you'll hear ghostly singing which will draw you towards the water. You'll find yourself with one of two urges. Some feel the need to jump into the water to investigate while others feel the urge to sing back. Singing back will help you'se keep ya freedom while following the siren's urges will spell your doom. Some say they're always out at night and will still attack, but will only sing on the full moon. Never go near the water at night, especially on the full moon. Sometimes, they'll be heard singing outside your window, in hopes of getting you to go to the water."

"Wait...You've gone across the bridge at night before! Have you heard them?"

"Why yes, I've had. I'se sang right back at them as I covered my ears 'nd ran. As ya know, 'm probably the fastest runner in 'Hattan so I was able to outrun their voices."

"So humble ain't ya?"

"When have ya beaten me in a race Finch?"

"..."

"Uh-huh. That's what I thought. Anyway. The sirens ain't the only ones that come out in the night. There are the masks as well."

Crutchie fought back a laugh, knowing exactly where this was going. After all, he and Jack were the ones who told Racetrack the story in the first place when the boy was caught attempting to sneak out on a full moon. The story had been passed down from the leader just before Jack who had used it to stop Jack himself from sneaking out

"Masks?"

Race's grin widened at the child's question, planning to add his own twists into the story had been told oh so many years ago. "The masks are creatures that come out on the full moon. They appear to be human yet their faces are not. Their faces are inhuman or if they're strong enough to have a human face, it'll be frozen in one expression no matter what and it'll look fake. It'll appear like it's stuck in time."

"What do they do t-to you?"

"Why if they see you walking the streets, they'll take you away. If the masks getcha, you'll never be seen again until the full moon when you're there ta take people away! What do ya think happened to Dax from Queens? He turned into one of them. Everyone just says that he aged out but I'se has seen him. I looked out the window one-night 'nd BAM! He was right there on the street, starin' up at me wit' a weird ass smile on his face. It was raining 'nd he didn't even blink, just kept on staring. Next second, he was gone. The masks 'ad gotten him."

"You'se just tryin' ta tell us scary stories and not about weirdos!"

"I dunno kid. The masks and sirens are pretty weird 'nd creepy." Race shook his head before letting out a soft insulted shout as Blink shoved him to the side.

"Alright, kids. I'se'll tell ya about the weirdos I've seen at night time."

"How can ya see at night with one eye?"

"Same as I see durin' the day Mike. Anyway, I'se got a few stories." He chuckled, shaking his head. During the time Race was speaking, he had sorted through his own nightly experiences, sorting the stories from each other so he didn't slip up and tell a not so 'kid-friendly' story. He didn't feel like a repeat of last time. As friendly and cheerful he appeared, Crutchie was more than happy to hit someone with his crutch if he felt like someone deserved it. Last time Blink had told a story, the bruise had lasted over a week. Though he had to admit he made a mistake when he decided to tell the kids he had snuck into a bar and managed to steal from a drunk which ended up causing a few of the more daring littles to attempt to go near the bars. Luckily, Jack had expected this and had the more mature kids keep an eye out for anyone wandering towards the bars.

"Once at night on a full moon, I'se was coming home. I had been out a bit late ya know? It was still early enough that 'the masks' hadn't come out yet." The only reason he had mentioned Race's stupid story was that he knew the taller boy would interrupt him in an attempt to draw the attention back onto himself. "And before ya ask, this isn't the same night as the bar incident. Anyway, I was walking home yeah? I think I was only a block away from lodging actually when some really hairy lookin' fella comes stumbling outta the alley. I'm talkin' real hairy. Like hair on 'is hands, neck 'nd stuff like that. He's mumbling ta himself and stuff then he sees me. He starts coming towards me 'nd I think Great here we'se go. but instead o' fightin' me, he throws his arms round me, tells me that God blesses me and starts singin' those song thingys."

"Hymns."

"Right that. Thanks, Jojo. So this guy is singin' and holding onto me and all of a sudden just lets me go and walks off. I watch him go and see that he does the same thing to a lamp post. He didn't even smell like liquor which just added ta the confusion. Pretty sure he kissed the lamp post as well before he just sat down, singin' ta himself." He shook his head, grinning at the laughter that followed his story. Even Jojo was laughing which meant that the risk he had taken hadn't insulted the boy who had grown up, raised by nuns.

Over the next few hours, he and the other older kids kept up their storytelling, entertaining the younger ones with tales of strange things they had seen over their short lives, even allowing Race to tell more of his stupid stories.

Finally deciding to be serious with the topic, Race grinned, cutting off Jack's cowboy story. "We'se heard that story a lot Cowboy 'nd I've seen some pretty weird shit up in Brooklyn if you'se wanted to hear."

Considering he was the only non-Brooklyn newsie who could sell there let alone stay the night meant he instantly drew their interest. After all, whenever the newsies came up with a 'strange' story, they made sure to mention Brooklyn.

"So. One night, the fellas and I were in their kitchen when this knock sounds on the door. Laughin', they all send me to go answer it and what do I get? Some stranger tossin' water in ma face! Apparently, once a week, this lady walks up ta different houses 'nd throws water at people fa no reason. Like who does that? So, I'm standing there, soaked ta the bone wit' all the fellas laughing at me so what do I do fa revenge? I go 'nd grab a bowl maself and toss it all over them 'fore rushing off, runnin all the way back here."

"You've thrown water at me!"

"Albie my dear friend...You kept fucking snoring. What was meant to do?" Grinning, he quickly dodged the punch his best friend through at him. "Anyway. There was this other guy who walked around sayin' he was a god. People were naturally avoidin' him considering he was screamin' at the top o' his lungs, dancing buck naked in the streets. The bulls came ta pick him up and he threw something in their faces, I think it was flour and takes off running, screamin' about lemons and shit." He shook his head, remembering the conversation he had with Spot after that confusing day.

Before Race could keep speaking, Jack clapped his hands. "Alright, guys. It's time fa bed. Moon's getting high and we'se got work tomorrow."

"But I wanna hear more stories!"

"Too bad. Ya gotta go to bed Lijah." Grinning, he watched as the older boys started ushering the younger kids upstairs to get ready for bed, happy to see that there was minimal complaining...Right now at least. He knew some kids would take more time to settle down but he was prepared for that.

He stood up, following the group so he could catch up to Race. "The masks 'nd sirens? Really?"

"What? They'se good stories and you know that! Besides, correct me if I’m wrong but if I remember correctly, you and Crutchie were the ones who told me about the masks, I'm just passing on the knowledge."

Without a comeback, Jack just laughed and shook his head, watching the blond run up the stairs. He had to give it to Race, the kid had a massive imagination and if he filed away the stories to draw later, well...No one needed to know.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 34)

The Gilded Cage

We’re off to a party at the mayor’s house! I hope you like this one, guys :)

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I regretted my decision to sit by the fire almost instantly. I'd made some oatmeal for breakfast and had wandered over, thinking the area was void of people; awake ones, anyway, Javier and Lenny were curled up asleep under the shelter opposite the log I'd chosen. I'd already committed to sitting there when I realised that Micah was there too, lounging under the shelter next to it, I hadn't registered him due to his stillness and silence, but when he moved to pull a drag from the cigarette he was smoking, I saw him. He was watching me, his face neutral, though erring towards a glare if I focused on the slight narrowing of his eyes and the way he did not look away when my eyes met his. 

"Morning, Micah," I said curtly.

Micah didn't answer, continuing to stare and smoke across the fire. His silence drew on, the crackle of the fire and Javier's quiet, occasional snore my only answer. My gut churned and I tried to focus on my breakfast, forcing it down, knowing my sudden loss of appetite didn't mean I wasn't hungry.

"I'd appreciate it if we could be civil," I said quietly, then took a mouthful of oatmeal. 

Micah scoffed. "Is a man not allowed to sit quietly and enjoy the morning peace without being accused of not being civil?"

"Sorry," I shook my head, not looking at him. 

He went quiet again, but after a while, he sighed. "Just so you know, I ain't sad. I ain't over here wallowing, feeling sorry for myself over you."

"I didn't think you were."

"You really ain't that special after all," he shrugged and I smiled to myself, thinking back to our conversation at the Parlour House where he'd said the exact opposite. I wasn't surprised he'd been saying it to butter me up.

"I know."

"Morgan's welcome to you," he muttered, flicking his cigarette away and standing up, strolling past me, "enjoy your breakfast," he added snidely. 

I looked up at him and watched his back as he left, his hand hooked on his belt, his gait slow and self assured. Conflict was not something that I enjoyed, but I found myself getting irritated by that stroll of his. I sighed and shook my head.

Footsteps approached from behind, and I looked up in time to see Arthur stepping over the log before sitting down beside me. He was carrying a letter in his hand, his eyes cast down towards it, a slight frown marring his brow. He didn't say anything in greeting. 

"Hello," I said curiously, and there was a pause before he responded distractedly. 

"Hey," he said, then after a moment he looked up at me, then handed me the letter.

"What's this?" I questioned, looking down to the bottom of the page where the letter was signed off. Mary.

"Mary's contacted me again. She's in the city, apparently, wants to see me again," he told me. 

I quickly skim read her letter, wincing at the words on the page, wondering why on Earth Arthur had given it to me. It was full of hopeless pleading, speaking of change and how Arthur could not seem to do it, how he could not be a man. She wanted his help again, it appeared, she begged. I handed it back to him when I was done, finished off the last of my oatmeal, all the while feeling Arthur's expectant eyes on me. 

"Well, she sounds like she's in a tricky situation of some sort. You gonna help her?" I asked, finally looking at him. He stared blankly for a moment.

"I don't know, I was sort of hoping you'd tell me what you thought I should do," he laughed a little. I raised a brow, unsure how to respond to that.

"Mary is your… friend. I can't tell you how to deal with her. I know last night you said you ain't had to do much thinking for yourself, Arthur, but this is one of those times you're gonna need to practice," I chuckled.

"I can't just go back to her, can I? Not when I'm with you. That wouldn't be fair. I ain't thought of her in ages, darlin', and I'm gonna get tired real quick if she's gonna keep seeking me out whenever she needs someone to do her dirty work," he grumbled, shaking his head and smacking the letter with the back of his hand in distaste. 

"Then don't go," I shrugged. His face contorted, my answer obviously not sitting right with him either.

"That's what I should do, ain't it?" He murmured, mostly to himself. He stared down at the letter, rubbing the dip below his bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. 

I watched him for a moment, then took a breath. "I won't be mad if you want to see her."

"I don't want to see her," he was quick to correct me, "but that don't mean I feel content with tossin' this letter and ignoring her. That wouldn't be right."

"Then go!" I laughed, though it wasn't full of humour. "Arthur, it's up to you. I can understand your decision either way, she ain't exactly making things easy for you."

"I'll go. I'll go and you'll come with me, you can meet her and we'll tell her about us. Like I said last time, maybe if she sees I've moved on she might feel contacting me asking for help all the time is inappropriate," he said. 

My lips parted, my heart thumping uncomfortably in my chest, eyes widening. Arthur didn't notice.

"I told her last time I couldn't drop everything for her and she needed to look elsewhere if she wanted an errand boy, that didn't sink in, clearly. So I guess it's come to this," he continued shaking his head, "she don't seem to understand that she puts me in a difficult position when she sends me letters like this, it pulls me right back to when she and I– it just don't feel good."

I dropped my focus to the glowing cracks in the wood of the campfire, trying to settle my anxiety, taking slow, quiet breaths. I saw Arthur look towards me from the corner of my eye, then heard him sigh.

"And it ain't fair on you," he added, then tossed the letter into the flames right in front of me, making me jump. 

For some reason I flinched, almost going to grab the letter out of instinct as if it had been an accident, but I caught myself. I turned my wide eyes to him.

"I'm sorry, angel," he whispered, "I'm not going. I shouldn't even think twice about it when I've got you I should be focusing all my attention on."

"Arthur, you don't have to be like this for me," I shook my head and he reached for my hand, cupping it between both of his, stroking the back of it with his palm, "she was your fiancé," I added.

"You knew about that?" He frowned, then shook his head dismissively. "Yeah, she was. Until she decided to call the whole thing off and marry some other feller, spitting on everything she and I had together." 

"I'm sorry," I breathed. 

"Well," he sighed, looking guilty, "it was a little more complicated than that. I weren't being totally fair, neither of us were innocent, we hurt each other. Anyway, I'm trying to move forward and build something with you, I refuse to let her make me keep one foot in the past, Lord knows I did that for too long." 

"If you're sure," I said, though I felt a little guilty being the reason he wanted to ignore her letter. It was Arthur's decision, though, however he made it.

"I'm completely sure," he lifted one hand to my cheek, stroking his thumb across the top of my cheekbone. He moved in to kiss me once. "I miss that hotel room already. Things were nice there, just me and you," he whispered when our lips parted, only for him to kiss me again right after.

Arthur tilted his head, deepening the kiss. All of my guilt and worry ebbed away, my heart rate slowed to a pace that was only elevated because of excitement, not anxiety, it thrummed more pleasantly in my chest, fluttering like the butterflies in my stomach. It was just Arthur and I, like nobody else existed for those moments. It didn't occur to me once where we were, until I heard a laugh. 

Arthur and I immediately broke away from each other and looked towards the noise; Javier was in the process of sitting up, just woken up, looking between us. 

"Don't let me disturb you," he teased, smirking, then got up and left us to grab himself some coffee. Regardless, Arthur and I put a little distance between us. Just because we weren't worried about keeping our relationship quiet anymore, it didn't mean we were going to start ramming it down everyone's throats. 

"Did you speak to Hosea and Dutch about the mayor's party?" Arthur asked after a short stretch of quiet. 

"Oh, yeah, well I spoke to Hosea. He said he'd ask Dutch, but he thought it was a good idea; said we'd look a little more upstanding if we had a lady in the group," I grinned, and Arthur chuckled.

-

Dutch took some convincing – mainly the work of Hosea – but eventually he came around to the idea of having me attend the party. There were conditions, however, we were there to work, to find leads, not simply to get a taste of high society life. He said it to me as if I was interested in that sort of thing, I told him not to worry, I'd already been working on my persona and a plan to seek out something worthwhile. He also warned me not to distract any of the other men while they were looking for their own leads, and that one almost made me roll my eyes. What did he take me for? 

So, all of us – Dutch, Hosea, Bill, Arthur and I – headed to Saint Denis to get ourselves cleaned up for the party. We went to the tailor's and each bought a new outfit for the occasion; I ended up in a ball gown the likes of which I'd never worn in my life. It was a salmon pink off-the-shoulder thing with a gathered, satin, wrap-around style bodice and wide skirt with more gathers at the front, the fabric lifted to reveal a layer of lighter pink satin underneath trimmed with lace. The dress was adorned with ribbons and bows and a ruffle on the bust that made me look more endowed than I really was, helped along by the corset that went with it that did an excellent job of pushing my breasts up till I could practically rest my chin on them.

Heading back to camp before the party saw me surrounded by the girls, Miss Grimshaw and Mary-Beth worked together to do my hair while the others (excluding Sadie, who was decidedly not interested in the ball and Molly, who was decidedly bitter that Dutch hadn't asked her to come) spoke excitedly about what a ball at the mayor's house might be like. I was nervous by the time I was ready and the sun was on its way down, and we were all piled into a stagecoach together on our way. 

I was crammed in between Bill and Hosea, sat opposite Arthur and Dutch. Hosea was talking about how he used to attend balls quite often, and I was surprised until he revealed it was more about pick-pocketing than anything else. We all shared a laugh.  

"Remember, we're here to make contacts. So, no pick-pocketing, no cons," Dutch began, looking to me before continuing, "well, loosely speaking. You see an opportunity to set something up, go ahead, but the point is we don't wanna attract any attention just yet."

"What sort of contacts we trying to make here?" Arthur questioned, shaking his head and seeming amused by the whole thing. 

"I guess we'll find out when we get inside," Dutch laughed, "we're heading into a party at the mayor's house where the guest of honour is the worst crook in town. Rest assured, Arthur, we're bound to find something."

I laughed, looking down at my hands, twisting a ring around that Tilly had lent to me for the occasion, taking a breath to calm my nerves.

"When we get there, Arthur and I will go in and reacquaint ourselves with Bronte, you fellers, go find somewhere quiet and we'll meet you out there. And you, my dear," Dutch continued, and I looked up when he addressed me, "you head into the party and start mingling. Use your womanly charm to get us some information about something we might be able to steal, some poor feller worth robbing, anything."

"Womanly charm," Arthur chuckled, but it seemed a little tense, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means a feller's more likely to trust an attractive young lady – or better yet, try to impress her – with some information about how well he's doing for himself, than he is a mean lookin' tough guy such as yourself," Dutch explained in a low voice, "and that is information we might be able to use."

I felt my face heat up at the way Dutch referred to me as an attractive young lady, especially when all the men in the coach turned to look at me at that moment precisely. Arthur's eyes stayed on me long after the others turned away.

"It's a fair point," Bill said. Arthur shrugged then looked back at Dutch.

"Fair enough. Now what am I doing?" Arthur asked.

"We'll figure that out once we get inside, we're here."

We arrived outside of the house, a beautiful place lit up and alive with the sound of music drifting onto the streets from what sounded like the garden around the back. We all climbed out of the stagecoach, and Bill awkwardly offered a hand to help me down after scrubbing it against his trouser leg, since he was the one who climbed out before me. I took it and thanked him, and he was quick to let go as soon as I was down safely, acting like it never happened. I chuckled to myself, and came to walk beside Arthur who was waiting for me. 

"You ready for this?" He uttered to me under his breath. A smile lifted my lips and I gave him a look of reassurance.

"Ready or not, we're heading in. We'll be fine," I told him, looking him up and down in his suit. 

Christ almighty, Arthur in a suit, now that was a sight I could get used to. He looked incredibly handsome, his hair slicked back with pomade, his beard freshly trimmed to a short, neat stubble. 

"You certainly scrub up well," I purred, and Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly distracted by one of the gentlemen standing at the front gate, greeting people. 

"I'm afraid the mayor doesn't allow guns at official functions after last year's incident," he was saying. Hosea and Dutch handed over their holstered weapons, and Arthur turned to do the same. 

My heart stopped and I glanced around nervously, wondering if I could get away with it or if it was worth the risk of keeping quiet. One of the gentlemen looked at me, raising a brow as he noticed my nervousness, and with an awkward cough I turned away from the group. I could feel their eyes on me as I – as discreetly as I could – lifted the hem of my skirt, gathered up my petticoats, and reached underneath to retrieve the revolver I had strapped to my thigh. I sheepishly handed it over, gaining a number of surprised looks.

"Well, a lady needs to be able to protect herself, don't you think?" I chuckled tensely, and eventually they all shrugged it off. 

"I suppose that's rather sensible," someone said. 

With that, we were ushered into the house. I fell into step beside Arthur, who was looking at me with an amused smile and lidded eyes. I flushed and chose not to say anything, feeling his hand go to the small of my back as we climbed the steps to the house. 

Hosea, Bill and I broke off from Arthur and Dutch when they went to meet Signor Bronte. Arthur had explained before we left that he was the one who'd invited us here, and he just about ran part of the city. He was also the one who was holding Jack, but Dutch had sucked up to him enough that that wasn't a problem… apparently. I personally found it very odd, but it wasn't my place to say anything.

I headed into the party just as Dutch had instructed. I stepped out of the back door onto the veranda that looked out across the garden. I took a moment to familiarise myself with the place; there were people everywhere, all lavishly dressed of course. There was a gazebo with a band playing right in the middle of it all, a huge fountain further up ahead. The garden was split up with raised planters bursting with exotic looking foliage and flowers, between which were various paved areas where the guests converged, all around buffets and candle lit tables. Lights were strung up above, bathing the place in a low glow, bright enough so you could make your way around but dark enough to maintain a strangely intimate atmosphere.

I hadn't been to any balls before, but I had to say, the place looked impressive even to me. 

I descended one of the sweeping staircases that curled around into the heart of the party, immediately being offered a glass of champagne by a gentleman holding a tray full of glasses. I gratefully took one, having a sip, my very first taste of champagne. I had to say, I wasn't all that impressed, though I drank it anyway to calm my nerves and give me a little more confidence. 

Glancing around the place, I honestly didn't know where to start. Looking for leads; I knew my objective but once I was faced with the prospect of carrying it out, I almost regretted coming. Luckily, I needn't pluck up the courage to make the first move to anyone because a man approached me, casually sliding in beside me, nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre of some description. 

"Good evening," he greeted me after finishing off the last bite. He was a tall, skinny man with a gaunt face and deep set eyes. Very pale skin dotted with freckles and bright orange hair slicked into a graceful sweep across his forehead. He was wearing a suit not dissimilar to the one Dutch was wearing… or any of the other men for that matter. There really was only so many ways to wear a suit, it seemed, rather boring compared to the variety in the women's gowns. There were some show-stoppers, for sure.

"Hello there," I replied, turning to face him. 

"Pleasure, the name's Michael," he offered his hand to me and met it with my own, he gave my fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Jemima," I told him. 

"Jemima," he repeated with a nod, "what a God-awful farce this is, don't you agree?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I just arrived. I haven't quite been here long enough to draw any conclusions," I laughed. 

"Darn, I was hoping I'd find someone to stand and complain with. You know, I'm only here because my social climber wife was invited. Yes, she's rather friendly with that man who makes the ugly hats, what's-his-name," he looked to me for an answer and I could do no more than stare blankly at him, "Wasp. What an awful name."

"Never met the feller," I shrugged, clearing my throat and scanning the place for an excuse to escape.

"Well I assure you he practically owes his living to me, with the number of hats my wife owns. You'd think she wanted to open up her own shop. And the size of some of them, I'll have to buy a second home just to keep the damn things," he tutted, shaking his head. "Anyway, she fits right in here, but I just can't stand these sorts of things."

"I suppose it's not for everyone," I mused.

"Right, she was stood talking to that man over there for twenty minutes when I left her to it. Some nonsense about art, he's a dealer or something, was trying to sell her some crap from Italy that I'll end up paying for, no doubt," he grumbled, gesturing to a gentleman now standing alone, picking at the buffet. 

I watched him for a moment, thinking. 

"That woman'll be my ruin, I'm sure of it, bleed me dry," Michael said under his breath, and I looked at him with raised brows. He caught my eye and sighed, "sorry, I've been hitting the champagne hard since we got here, I've said enough. I'll leave you to it. Have a pleasant evening," he said monotonously, then skulked off.

I noticed Arthur pouring champagne for a group of ladies nearby and smiled, then wandered over there. He grinned when he saw me, and topped up my glass. 

"Thank you, sir," I said, and he shook his head in amusement. 

"What did Dutch say about distracting the fellers?" He teased me. 

"I'm distracting you? Why I'm just saying hello," I nudged him, sipping my drink. "How is Mr. Bronte?"

"He's…" he began, trailing off as he struggled to sum the man up, "well, I'm just glad you haven't had to meet him."

"Oh, that bad?"

He made a humming sound. "Who was your new friend?" He gestured in the vague direction of Michael. I laughed and shook my head.

"An unhappily married complainer, was about my take away from the conversation," I told him, "but, he gave me an idea, so it wasn't all bad." 

"Yeah?" He looked at me, intrigued.

"Yeah," I smiled, "what about you?"

"Well, I need to speak to the mayor," he said, nodding over towards the fountain where a group of men were standing, one of them must've been him, though I couldn't tell you which one. 

"Oh! I'll leave you to it, then," I rubbed his upper arm, pausing to feel the muscle there when it captured my attention, before turning to leave. Arthur caught my arm before I could walk away. 

"You look incredible. Just thought I should tell you that," he said under his breath.

A smile burst across my face, "thank you, sweetheart." 

Arthur smiled at the nickname, sliding his hand down to squeeze mine, his eyes turning soft and warm and lovely. Before I could get carried away, he let me go, and we each went our separate ways so we could get on with our jobs. I walked towards the man Michael had pointed out to me as an art dealer, flashing him a little smile and waiting for him to smile back before committing and closing the distance.

"Hi, lovely to meet you, Jemima Jones," I introduced myself, offering my hand and having him shake it. 

"Leighton Pleasants," he said in an English accent, then glanced down at my attire, "what a lovely dress."

"Oh, thank you. It's brand new for the occasion, I couldn't resist spending a little money once I knew I'd be coming to the mayor's house," I giggled, and Leighton's smile widened, "speaking of, I heard you are a collector of artwork, or something along those lines?"

"Ah, yes, something like that. I have rather an impressive collection if I do say so, though a lot of the buying I do is for the purpose of passing it along to those who will treasure it. Do you have an interest in art?"

"I suppose you could say that. I enjoy filling my home with work that the guests can enjoy, I host a lot of parties, you see. I bought a painting on the recommendation of a dealer in Paris a few years back and ever since then I've been hooked. The looks on people's faces when I unveil a new piece!" I touched his arm and gave a happy sigh. "Truthfully, I know nothing about art, but my guests often do. I'm always on the lookout for new and exciting work."

"Oh, really? Well, in that case I believe I might be your new best friend."

"Or I may become yours," I flashed him a mischievous grin and watched as he chortled. 

"Well, I have a new shipment of artwork coming in from Italy, due next week. It's certainly new and exciting, it's by this up and coming artist–"

"Oh, save the sales pitch until I'm seeing the work," I cut him off, "how do you do business, Mr. Pleasants? Do you have a gallery nearby?"

"Actually, I tend to hand pick artwork for my clients and bring a selection to their home, let them display the work in their desired location to really give them a sense of what they're getting," he explained, making grand gestures with his hand at something in his imagination appearing right in front of us. 

"Oh, well, that's certainly a personal service," I hummed, pursing my lips, "but I think I'd prefer to see everything you've got, especially this new shipment. Don't you have a gallery?"

"Well, I have a building that I keep all of the work in, though it's not so much a gallery as it is a warehouse," he admitted, wearing a hesitant expression, "a private building in the city for security purposes, it's not a pretty place, but it is highly secure and the artwork is kept safe and pristine for potential buyers."

"Oh, I don't mind what the building looks like, just the art. Perhaps you'd allow me to visit? Just give me a time and the place and I won't be any trouble, I'd just like to have a look," I bargained, but he didn't look enthusiastic, he frowned and chewed on his lip. 

"I'm afraid I can't, the building is very secure and there is a lot of money's worth of art there, it's not that I believe you're untrustworthy, I just cannot bring clients there. It's more my partner's rule than my own, you understand, don't you?" He apologised, and I let out a sigh, pouting glumly. 

"Fine, I get it. Can't be too careful, I suppose. Well, what if you do what you normally do and bring me some paintings to look at? If you don't mind, I'd rather view them at a hotel, so my husband doesn't find out I'm spending all our money again," I laughed, and he visibly relaxed. 

"I suppose I can manage that," he nodded, smiling at me, eager to keep me keen, "what sort of art are you after?"

"How about you bring me that Italian work? I'm not too picky, if it's new and popular, I'm all for it," I suggested.

"Well, in that case, I think you'll be very pleased."

"May I ask that you bring the work to the Saint's Hotel in Valentine? I know it's a bit of a ways away, but trust me, it's closer than my home," I chuckled.

"Valentine? That's no problem at all my dear. The paintings will be arriving in Saint Denis next Friday, so perhaps we could set the viewing up for Saturday morning?" 

"Evening would be better for me, I think," I pondered. The roads would be quieter, I thought.

"Evening it shall be, then. Shall we say six o'clock, next Saturday, at the hotel in Valentine?"

"Absolutely!" I offered my hand to him again and he shook it. 

"Wonderful!" 

A moment later, a loud bang rang out across the sky. I was a moment away from ducking for cover, but I saw the burst of light in the air above us, a shower of colourful sparks, followed by many more. Fireworks!

"How beautiful," I breathed, mostly to myself. 

The sky lit up with explosion after explosion, everyone stopped in their tracks and watched the display. Sounds of awe surrounded me as the crowd enjoyed the beauty going on overhead. Part of me wished that Arthur was standing next to me so we could enjoy them together, I wondered if he found them as pretty as I did. 

It occurred to me then, as I enjoyed that small moment of peace where I didn't have to think of anything but the celebrations going on around me, that it was my birthday. I'd honestly forgotten. I smiled to myself, figuring that attending a fancy ball, never mind the purpose of doing so, had been a memorable experience for a birthday to say the least.

-

"I've never felt so awkward in all my life," Bill was grumbling once we were all back in the coach heading back to camp after the party. He carried on muttering about how awful the party was, much to my amusement. I kept quiet, though, only smiling to myself as to not rile him up further. I'd spotted him ambling about the place in his too short pants, wondering what to do with himself. He was a fish out of water in that place.

I realised Bill had stopped complaining when Arthur handed a piece of paper to Dutch, who's eyes seemed to light up at whatever it was. It seemed like we'd come away with a few decent leads; Hosea might've found a bank to rob, Dutch mentioned a trolley station and a poker game on a boat that could be of use. I waited until we were clear of the party to explain my findings, and Dutch didn't hesitate to ask me what I'd been doing as soon as there was a lull in the conversation on the way home. 

"Did you find anything of interest, my dear?" He asked casually, he almost sounded as if he wasn't hopeful.

"I believe I did, if you have a couple men free next Saturday evening," I began, and Dutch raised his brows with intrigue. 

"Oh?" 

All four men looked at me interestedly. 

"I got talking with this art dealer, I arranged to view some paintings. He's bringing them up from Saint Denis to Valentine, so my thinking was you fellers could intercept somewhere along the way and take them off his hands," I explained, looking between Hosea and Dutch in particular for approval, "preferably without putting a bullet in him," I added.

"Paintings?" Hosea repeated, then gestured to Arthur, "Seamus'd know what to do with those. You could take them to him."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully.

"I think they're worth a fair bit," I told them, and Dutch hummed.

"Not bad," he appraised, then glanced at Arthur, "could be one for you and Lenny. Maybe one more."

"Take John with you," Hosea suggested.

"Alright. Well done, I knew you'd make yourself useful," Arthur smiled at me, and my heart fluttered with pride.

[everlarkficexchange]

To be Her O.A.O. (one-and-only) - Chapter 2

written by: @noneyabidnes

Rating: Mature

Prompt 73: Katniss marries Gale before he’s sent to fight WWII. Gale sends home his buddy Peeta to break the news to his wife and family that he’s fallen in love with someone else in Europe and is staying there after the war… Peeta is under the impression Katniss is a cold woman that only married his friend out of obligation but finds out the other side of the story soon enough. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Tags: era-appropriate derogatory terms for Axis powers, angst

–//–//–//–//–//–//–//–

Chapter 2

The shadows are stretching long by the time we hear hooves coming up the road.  Prim jumps out of her seat saying she needs to check on the sheep as Katniss continues dinner preparations in the small kitchen.  I try to stand up to help just to have her shush me back down again.  I’ve offered more than once, but somewhere in the last couple hours, as we’ve talked about nothing in particular, she’s come to decide I’m an acceptable guest, and I’ve barely been able to take my eyes off her.  As she turns her back to me, I snag the rumpled photo back off the table and slip it in my pocket

It’s become my personal challenge to get her to smile as much as I can, telling stories about every Good-time Charley and cracked egg I met in the service.  I even managed a blush out of her, and Prim for that matter, delicately explaining why most guys referred to letters from their girls back home as sugar reports.  It prompted her to ask me about my own special someone, of which I had to admit I had none.  Delly Cartwright and I used to pal around a bit, but last I’d heard she’d gone and hitched up with Thom Quinn after he’d come back from France.  I wasn’t surprised to hear she’d fallen for the flyboy, nor was I hurt.  She and I weren’t cut out for one-and-only.

I’m still watching Katniss push onions around a pan when she starts to sing quietly to herself.  It’s a song from before the war, one I haven’t heard since before I shipped out to Parris Island, but what catches me isn’t sentimentality toward the song, but the rich tone of her voice.  Gale never mentioned she could sing.  He spoke endlessly about her hunting acumen, how sensible she was, if a bit distant and frigid in her demeanor.  He made it seem like getting any affection from her was hard-fought.  That even after they had married, he still didn’t think she really felt much love for him.  To hear the emotion in her voice as she sings, I know how wrong he was.  Not that she was in love—it does seem clear that wasn’t the case—but that she wears her heart where it can get trampled.  That this ‘cold woman with a hard stare’ as he often put it, is in fact a woman full of warmth.  Each smile I’ve earned from her has felt like a victory and now, to hear her singing as though she’s perfectly comfortable with me in her kitchen, I can’t imagine ever being able to tear myself away from this shack on this rock outcrop of a mountain.  From her.

And I immediately fill with shame for feeling it.  I shouldn’t be a goner for my best friend’s not-an-ex-wife.  We’ve only just met.  We know nothing about one another beyond the pleasantries we’ve exchanged these past couple hours.  There’s no way I could ever convince her that I’m an upstanding man if I were to tell her the thoughts running through my mind.  I’d only confirm her initial misgivings of having me here in the first place.

Prim stomps back through the door with a tall young man on her heels who is the spitting image of his older brother.  This must be Rory, the one Gale always speaks about with equal parts pride and frustration.  I carefully stand on one leg to shake his hand as he towers over me and Katniss gasps.

“We never went to your mother’s house! Oh no, we got so caught up talking about…what were we even talking about?”  She looks to me to fill in the gap and I return Rory’s solid handshake.

“Matters of deep importance, if I do recall.  Rory, I presume.  Your brother didn’t lie about how strong you are, but I doubt he realizes how tall you’ve gotten.  He was always proud of having a coupla inches on you.  I daresay you’re taller’an him now.  You must have been stealin’ rations.”

A grin breaks out on Rory’s face before he pulls me in for a quick, surprising hug, knocking me slightly off balance.  “It’s all the squirrel Katniss keeps feedin’ us.  Where is he?  Prim wouldn’t tell me anything.”  He hasn’t let go of my hand, but he’s looking around the shack, as though the Lance Corporal will appear any moment.

“We should go talk to you mother.” Katniss jumps in.  She turns back to the stove and shuffles pans away from the heat.  “Come on.  Let’s head over there.  Rory, can you help Peeta walk?”

“Peter?” He glances back at me and his eyes trail down to my prosthetic propped against the wall by my chair.

“Peeta,” she corrects before I can, and I have to fight the smile that threatens to take over my face at how natural my name sounds on her lips.  Lips I’m not supposed to be staring at.  The guilt flares again.  I have got to get a handle on myself.

“Peeta Mellark,” I fill in.  “Your brother and I served together for over two years.  Not many guys I can say that about, unfortunately.”

“But he’s okay, right?”

“Yes.  Likely already back in Japan with the occupying forces.  I would be there too, if it weren’t for my leg.”

His eyes widen, taking in the full extent of the situation.  Prim steps up.  “I told you, he walked all the way up here.  He can’t put weight on it for a coupla days.”

“Can you mount a horse?”

“Sorry, city boy here.  I’ve never been within twenty feet of a horse.”

“Huh.  Hard to imagine life without one ‘round here.  Okay, let’s see here.”

As Rory’s scratching his head, Katniss turns back to the stove and shuffles things around again.

“Rory, just go run and get your mother and bring the crew back here.  You can all eat here tonight.  I was just tossin’ together some stew anyway.” 

He nods at the order as though Katniss were his CO and Gale’s words about her strength pop back into my head.  He’s out the door before I can say anything else. 

“You run a tight ship ‘round here.”

“Hardly, but I’m his big sister, whether we share blood or not.  I carried that boy on my hip as much as any other woman on this mountain, and his little brother even more so.  They know better’an to give me lip.”

“Yes ma’am.” I salute her quickly before I return to my seat, surprised by how much standing for the short period on one leg has exhausted me.  I feel so far from the strong boot I was so few months ago.

She graces me with another small smile and I find myself berating Gale in my mind.  How dare you call this woman cold?  With the exception of her pointing an arrow at me when I first appeared on the mountain, she’s been nothing if not understanding and warm.  And she sings!  How could anyone walk away from her? Just as quickly the scolding turns back on myself.  She’s married, you cracked egg!  To your best friend!  Let it go!

In no time, Rory is back through the door with an even younger version of Gale in tow as well as a young girl who must be Posy.  I can see immediately why he is so protective of her.  Delicate features that are slightly gaunt, pointing to a rough life.  So beautiful and sweet in her countenance.  Her large grey eyes take me in and immediately turn back to her big brother. 

“He’s Gale’s friend?  Where’s Gale?”  Rory puts his index finger up to his lips and she falls silent.  I reach out a hand toward her.

“Hi Posy.  Yes, I’m Gale’s friend Peeta.  He sent me here to make sure you were all doin’ well.  He misses you so much, li’l sweetheart.  He told me lots about you, including how beautiful you are.  I’m sorry he’s not here himself.”

Katniss cuts in before I can say anything more. “Where’s your Ma?”

“She put herself to bed early and Vick couldn’t get her to crack an eye when he went in to wake her.”

Silence fills the small room.  What would they have done for dinner if Katniss hadn’t invited them over?  Looking at the boys, I’m sure they can fend for themselves, but it still reinforces the reason Gale wanted to marry Katniss before he left.  She’s the one who makes sure these kids are taken care of.

“Well, I guess there’s no reason to keep it hush-hush,” Katniss starts.  “Gale’s doing fine.  He got injured back on Okinawa, but he’s back with his battalion over in Japan now.  Thing is, he’s not gonna be comin’ home after he’s done over there.  He found a lady on an island that loves him and they’re havin’ a baby.  He’s gonna stay and live with her after he’s done his tour.”

Posy’s innocence cuts to the heart of it. “But I thought he was gonna have babies with you?”

Katniss shakes her head.  “No, Pose, me and Gale never was gonna have kids.  We’ve got you guys.  You’re all the family we ever wanted.  Don’t need no babies underfoot when I’m huntin’ or milkin’ the goats.”

“But you guys love each other.”

Katniss reaches out and pulls Posy into her lap like she’s done it a thousand times.  My heart breaks to see the comfort between them.  This is Gale’s family.  He should be here.  How did he walk away from this?

“Ya’ know Posy, you’re right.  Gale and I do love each other, but not the way your Ma and Pa loved each other.  Not the way Prim and Rory love each other.  Gale and I, we know, knew each other inside and out, but we were never big into kissing and hugging.  And this lady he met, he loves her much bigger than he loves me.  And that’s alright.  I’m happy for him Posy, ya’ hear?  Happy he gets to have someone who loves him like he’s the most important guy on this here Earth.  Someone who can give him babies and make him smile, because he deserves that, don’t he, Pose?”

The little one rests her head on Katniss’s shoulder and snuggles in tighter.  “Will you still give me hugs and kisses?”

“Oh, sugar, you and I? We’re together ‘til you can’t stand me, ya’ hear?  We’re family.  That had nothin’ to do with Gale and everythin’ to do with bein’ there for your first steps and first words, and holdin’ your hand on the way to school.  Gale can go have his big adventure.  We’ll keep being family here, no matter.”

“So he’s not takin’ you away?” The sweet girl points at me and Katniss’s eyes widen briefly before a soft smile graces her face.

“No, he’s not takin’ me anywhere.  Gale sent him here to make sure I was okay, to make sure we all are.  He doesn’t want us to be angry with him for stayin’ there.  And we’re not, are we?”

Posy shakes her head slowly against Katniss’s shoulder, her hand absently playing with the end of Katniss’s braid.

“Ma’s gonna be angry,” Vick speaks up and all eyes turn to him.

“Well, she’ll jus’ have to take that up with me,” Katniss states, leaving no room for argument.  “Now, if you wanna know how your brother’s doin’, this nice gentleman here, Mr. Peeta, can answer all your questions.  I recommend you ask ‘em one on top of ‘nother so that he can hardly keep up.”

She slides Posy off her lap and turns back toward the pots on the stove, but not before I catch the glint of mischief in her eyes.  Posy doesn’t disappoint, asking everything from what color Gale’s clothes are these days to what the baby’s name will be.  She keeps going all the way through dinner and up to the moment Rory picks her up to carry her tired frame back across the field to their home.

Prim follows them out the door, her hand resting on the small of Rory’s back.  I’ll have to write to Gale to let him know that Rory’s found his O.A.O., his one-and-only.  I wonder how he’ll react to it being Prim.  And I’ll have to fill him in on Posy’s interrogation. 

Behind me I can hear Katniss shuffling around by the small couch that Prim called her bed.  Just moments before Vick was sitting on it with Katniss and as I turn to watch I notice the threadbare sheets that are creating a home for me tonight.

“I know Prim didn’t really give you much choice, but if you’re more comfortable, I can sleep outside or in the barn.  I’m usta sleepin’ sittin’ up at this point.  I don’t need to be in your space.”

“Don’t you know better than to turn down mountain hospitality?  No, I don’t mind you being here.  It may not make much sense, but I kinda like havin’ you here.  The house feels a little safer, a little fuller.  I don’t know, maybe it’s just all those stories you told about Gale and the rest of the guys, but I feel like I already know you.  Like you’re just a long-lost friend that Gale managed to wrangle back to the mountain.”

She’ll never know how much those words mean to me, or how she’s brought hope to a man that has felt his worth in the world dwindling by the day, but I try to express at least a little of it.  “Thank you.  Gale told me you were fiercely protective of your brood up here.  I can see why, but yeah, from all his stories I kinda feel like I know all of you as well, although you’re a bit of a surprise.”

She turns to catch my eyes, a question on her lips so I plunge ahead. 

“I didn’t know how you would handle the news.  Most gals don’t take kindly to word their man’s shacked up with another girl.  Since I’ve told you, I’ve seen you smile and sing.  I dare say you’re genuinely happy for him.”

Bringing herself up straight and rigid, she rolls her shoulders back, incidentally drawing my attention to areas I’m better off not noticing.  “Ya’know Corporal, I am happy.  When we got married, I felt like I’d been trapped.  I knew it was the right thing to do.  I understood why he’d suggested it, but he, well, he had these feelings that I just didn’t have.  Only time we ever kissed was after the preacher finished our vows.  Shouldn’t a wife want to kiss her husband?  We didn’t even sleep in the same house that night!  He tried to…well, I shoun’t be tellin’ you all this.”

“You weren’t in love with him and he wanted you to be.”

She nods solemnly.  “We needed each other to survive for those many years after our Pa’s died, and he knew I’d take care o’ his family while he was gone.  I wasn’t lyin’ to Posy.  They’re my family, no matter what.  I didn’t need to marry him for that to be so.  But he wanted ta make sure his pay came here and that his mother didn’t drink it.”

“If you don’t mind my askin’, has there been a guy you did want?”

Her eyebrow raises, almost like a challenge.  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Just wantin’ to make sure no one’s showing up with a shotgun while I’m sleepin’ in your house.  I’ve already been shot at enough in this life.”

She drops to the edge of the bed and levels me with her stare.  “You grew up in a city, so I’ll excuse you not knowin’ anything about small towns, but let me just tell ya, I’ve known ev’ry boy in this town since the days when they still ran around in nappies.  You’re the first new man I’ve met since before the war—ain’t no young fellas been around.  They all took off to fight the Jerries and the Japs, and those that stayed behind were chickens and ‘shiners.  No, Corporal Mellark, there’s no one poundin’ down our door in the middle of the night who’ll batt an eye at you on our cot, and if they did, I’d point my arrow right back at’em.”

“Hell, you’re like Artemis herself.  How could any man resist that?” I retort.

Happy with herself, the grin that splits her cheeks makes up for every bad thing I’ve seen in the last three years.  The heavy silence that sits between us stretches on until I wonder if I’m not the only one feeling awake and alive in a new way. 

When Prim pushes through the door several minutes later, she finds us still smiling silently at one another.  Shaking her head, she walks past us and into the back of the house to where I presume Katniss’s bedroom must be.  The spell is broken, but the smiles remain.

“I should be gettin’ to bed, Miss Everdeen.  My nurse says I have to rest up and I want to make sure I can help out while I’m here.  You got the fixin’s for pancakes in the morning?”  I don’t think my use of her maiden name goes unnoticed as she leans in so slightly toward me.

“You just have to sweet talk the chickens into givin’ you a coupla eggs, but I doubt that’ll be a problem for you, Corporal.”  Something about the way she says my rank sounds oh so good and my thoughts take a decidedly un-Christian turn, particularly with her sitting just across from me on what sure as hell looks like a bed.  Luckily, she takes that moment to stand. 

“Goodnight Corporal Peeta Mellark.” It rolls off her tongue, leaving me wondering if the innuendo is all in my head.  It has to be, right?  No way this beautiful woman could be flirting with someone as damaged as me.

My “Goodnight Katniss” as her skirt swishes past my knees comes out just shy of a whisper, but I swear she pauses to smile again. 

I’ve slept sitting up in the pouring rain as machine-gun fire bounced around me.  How in the world am I going to sleep tonight?