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Post by Administrator on Dec 24, 2009 1:47:09 GMT -5
The Horses race here.
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Post by Street on Feb 28, 2010 17:29:28 GMT -5
Street leaned against the railing that ran around the entire track. She held her 'borrowed' ticket in her hand tightly, chanting 'go, go' under her breath like a spell in a fairytale. Though she did not know the name of her horse (for she could not read the ticket) she had had a nice looking older gentleman tell her the beast was called 'Hanson's Hope'. Well, it was her hope too. For food, for shelter, for a new sweater (if the horse was fast enough). She pounded her fist on the railing, willing the horse to go faster. So close... So close... It was the tiny black one, with the white stripe on its face, it stood out, she saw it pass a brown one... She closed her eyes, held her breath, prayed to whomever would listen, and listened to the crowd. "And it's.... Georgia Bird followed by Hanson's Hope!" The announcer screamed. That meant she won something, right?
Street turned to find several large gentlemen blocking her way. They were arguing about something that did not interest her, what interested her was the shiny filver watch chain hanging from the largest man's pocket. She felt that familiar tingling in her fingers as she reached for it, felt the rush of adrenaline as her leg muscles prepared to run. The ticket might give her five dollars, but the watch chain was worth a fortune. Twelve dollars. She tugged at it a little, the man was so aggravated, he did not notice the slight pressure near his belt. She gave it one last mighty tug and took off running, dodging people, weaving in and out of the crowd. She jumped up a few steps and... Promptly smashed into someone very solid which cause her to tumble backwards, landing in a heap at the foot of the stairs.
"Oi! Can't ya see I'm runnin' from someone? Why'd ya have ta go and block my way like that?" She demanded angrily, standing quickly, her hands (one clutching the watch chain) on her skinny hips.
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Post by Chance on Feb 28, 2010 19:05:42 GMT -5
Chance was in a surprisingly good mood for once. He didn't go to the horse races often, but as he had wandered past with his papes, the cheers of the crowd had called to him. He figured he might be able to sell a few as the crowds exited. He made his way up to the stands, an unnatural twinkle of excitement in his blue eyes, hoping he wouldn't bump into Higgins while he was selling. Manhattans usually weren't so fond of Chance, and he wasn't too fond of them either. Two newsies trying to sell in one area usually didn't go over too well.
His eyes scanned the seats for a good view of the tracks, glancing at the race down below anxiously, before coming to a halt. He was pretty confident in his decision. That little black and white striped horse seemed to be carrying his load pretty well. He was advancing, surely and steadily. Chance paid no attention to the two drunk gamblers yelling loudly beside him, his eyes focused on the horse. He didn't bet that often, but when he did, he liked to win or at least place.
Now that horse was really moving, Chance leaned forward in anticipation, they were on the last lap and things were looking really close. "C'mon, go go go!" The lanky newsie muttered, clenching his fists. He grinned and cheered along with the rest of the crowd when the little black crossed the finish line, only one behind the big brown. He couldn't believe his luck. Shaking his head he whistled at what a great race that was. He reached into his worn pin striped suit coat pocket for his ticket, doing a double take when his fingers only met the worn fabric. He quickly checked his other pocket, his eyes narrowing. He ran a hand through his short hair, chuckling in disbelief, "This is great, just great."
As he moved away from the seat, he shoved a hand into his pocket, his newspapers tucked under his other arm, muttering a few curses under his breath. His pickpocketing habits had come back to bite him in the butt. At least he still had his newspapers.
He was caught up in his thoughts as he moved for the stairs, his eyes lowered when something that was small but moving fast collided into him. Chance almost stumbled but caught himself, his newspapers slipping out of his grip and fluttering slowly to scatter the steps. Yep, just his luck.
"Oi! Can't ya see I'm runnin' from someone? Why'd ya have ta go and block my way like that?"
Chance eyed the girl, a natural scowl etching into his face, the scar that ran over his left eye making him look even meaner. "I didn't do anythin'. I believe ya knocked into me."
He bent down to gather his newspapers, glaring at the girl, making sure to stay rooted in her path so she couldn't go anywhere. "And who would ya be runnin' from, goily?" He asked, a coy smirk on his face as he straightened, folding his arms across his chest.
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Post by Street on Feb 28, 2010 19:29:13 GMT -5
Street looked at boy. Oh... This was not good. He was tall, nearly a foot taller then her small stature (five foot even) and he had a scar over his eye, and he was scowling. Street felt a prickling on the back of neck, the kind she got when she knew she should run, but the boy was much larger then her and blocking her path. He also asked dumb questions. "Who am I runnin' from? Who does it look it like I'm runnin' from? I'm runnin' from the rich bloke whose watch I knicked." She dangled the silver chain in front of the boy's face. "I'm also tryin' ta cash in me ticket, 'cause me horse came in second!" She said excitedly, nearly bouncing with joy. "See? The man told me it says Hanson's Hope, and that's the horse that came in second, the black one with the white stripe."
She grinned, showing all her teeth, which were in surprisingly good condition for a kid that lived on the streets. "Ya look like someone done ya over there. Why're ya so angry lookin'? Did yer horse lose?" She asked with pity. Then, she spotted it. Gold, in his pocket. Looked like a watch chain. She bent and picked up a few newspapers that had fluttered and landed around her feet. She handed it to him, using the movement to have a closer look in his pocket. Sure enough, a gold watch was there. Silver could fetch twelve dollars, but could fetch twenty easily. Twenty-five if the guy behind the counter was in a good mood (usually around seven or eight at night when he'd been drinking heavily). Street looked at the boy, fixing an innocent grin on her face. "Me name's Street Lexeme, what's yers?" She asked, holding out her tiny hand (the one not holding the watch and ticket).
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Post by Chance on Feb 28, 2010 20:12:08 GMT -5
"Who am I runnin' from? Who does it look it like I'm runnin' from? I'm runnin' from the rich bloke whose watch I knicked."
Chance nodded, smirking slightly. So he was in the company of another pickpocket, how fascinating. He just shrugged as she showed off the watch, he had one just like it back at the lodging house. It didn't come close to comparing with the highlight of his collection, his pride and joy; his gold pocket watch. He merely yawned at the gleaming silver, and complimented lazily, "s' real nice."
"I'm also tryin' ta cash in me ticket, 'cause me horse came in second! See? The man told me it says Hanson's Hope, and that's the horse that came in second, the black one with the white stripe."
Chance narrowed his eyes again, scowling grumpily. She just had to rub it in. "Congratulations," he mumbled, straightening out a wrinkled newspaper as best he could before tucking it with the others under his arm.
"Ya look like someone done ya over there. Why're ya so angry lookin'? Did yer horse lose?"
Chance leaned against the railing of the stairs, letting a small group of gamblers go past, watching her face light up into a bright smile. She really was a rather charming young lady, Chance had to admit. Her energy reminded him of Chatter, but she talked less so Chance wasn't too irritated with the girl yet....yet being the main word there.
He shook his head, fiddling with a loose button on his suit coat. "Naw, I bet on the same horse ya did. I...I lost me ticket." He admitted through a mumble, feeling a little foolish. It wasn't often Chance was the one that got the backseat so to speak. He was too busy watching collecting his newspapers from her and straightening them out to notice her peeking at his pocket. The thought never crossed his mind that somebody might actually think of stealing from him.
"Me name's Street Lexeme, what's yers?"
She was smiling at him funny, but Chance just shrugged it off, managing somewhat of a smile back, the girl was growing on him. He brushed off his ink stained hand, shaking her hand, "Chance Mclean, ya from around here? I don't think I've seen ya in Queens very often."
He eyed the crowds, hoping they would be good customers for him. After wasting his money on the race, he would really need to make a profit if he wanted to eat a good supper tonight.
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Post by Street on Feb 28, 2010 20:21:58 GMT -5
"s' real nice."
"Real nice?" Street snorted. "This here will fetch twelve dollars at the pawner's!" She said defensively. "Real nice..." She shook her head slowly, amazed by the fact that he did not just how valuable the watch was.
"Naw, I bet on the same horse ya did. I...I lost me ticket."
Street looked at her nails with suspicious innocence. "Ya didn't happen ta be standin' over by the rails did ya? 'Cause, uh... I think someone knicked it..." She looked away, trying not to grin. She remembered his coat and how amazed she was that someone so young had been able to buy an expensive ticket.
"Chance Mclean, ya from around here? I don't think I've seen ya in Queens very often."
"Don't worry about yer hand, mine's even worse, see?" She held up the hand in question, it was dirty too. "Nice ta meet ya Chance Mclean. Nah, I ain't from around here, I don't belong anywhere. Can't. The bulls'd catch ya too quickly, ya know..." She nodded, making her point. "But I tend ta stay away from Queens, I'm scared of some of the newsies here. Like ya, yer too big for me ta be comfortable... I tend ta stick ta the Bronx, where the hoity-toities live."
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Post by Chance on Feb 28, 2010 20:41:28 GMT -5
"Real nice? This here will fetch twelve dollars at the pawner's! Real nice..."
Chance nodded, not caring to notice the girl's annoyance at his comment. "Yeah, twelve dollars. That's a nice catch, but I've seen better. It's real nice..."
"Ya didn't happen ta be standin' over by the rails did ya? 'Cause, uh... I think someone knicked it..."
Chance raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly with realization, "Yeah, I was by the rails. Yeah, I bet somebody did," he did not find it amusing like Street did. He grumbled to himself in annoyance, trying to find a good headline. Selling newspapers was so tedious sometimes...
"Nice ta meet ya Chance Mclean. Nah, I ain't from around here, I don't belong anywhere. Can't. The bulls'd catch ya too quickly, ya know..."
Chance nodded, contemplating the statement, "The bulls hate my guts but I'm too quick for them. They've never caught me."
"But I tend ta stay away from Queens, I'm scared of some of the newsies here. Like ya, yer too big for me ta be comfortable... I tend ta stick ta the Bronx, where the hoity-toities live."
He nodded in agreement, "Spose' that makes sense."
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Post by Street on Feb 28, 2010 20:48:27 GMT -5
"Yeah, I was by the rails. Yeah, I bet somebody did,"
Street scratched the side of her nose. "Someone like... me?" She asked, holding out the ticket carefully, so he could read it. "I think I remember ya... Wondered how someone like ya could afford an expensive ticket like this... Sorry?" She asked tentatively. "I'll trade ya fer it..." She said, a gleam coming into her eye, it was more playful then anything else. "That gold watch in yer pocket fer the winnin' ticket." She said boldly, clutching the ticket to her chest.
"The bulls hate my guts but I'm too quick for them. They've never caught me."
"Me neither. I haven't been caught yet, maybe I need ta, be brought done a few pegs or two, eh?" She winked at him, smiling as she did so. "See, I know how some of ya can be... Ready ta fight at a moment's notice. Never askin' why, just swingin' yer fists!" She waved her hands wildly in the air, acting out one of the brutal fights she was describing. "See?"
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Post by Chance on Mar 14, 2010 14:37:02 GMT -5
"Someone like... me? I think I remember ya... Wondered how someone like ya could afford an expensive ticket like this... Sorry?"
Chance narrowed his eyes slightly, reading the ticket. He shrugged at her statement, "I don't scrimp, I save."
When Street apologized, he didn't say anything, just met her gaze for a steady second and then returned his attention the crowds, fiddling with his newspapers.
"I'll trade ya fer it...That gold watch in yer pocket fer the winnin' ticket."
Chance raised an eyebrow at her, as if she was off her bonkers, before laughing outright, taking out his pocket watch and holding it in such a way so the lights hit it, making it shine, watching the girl's eyes gleam.
"Do you think I'm stupid? Ain't often I win a race but still, you really think I'm gonna trade this for a miserable five dollar ticket..." Okay so five dollars actually was good cash, a little tempting, but Chance would think not twice, but thrice, to the fifth, before giving away his favorite pocket watch. "This was hard to get okay? I'se kept it in good shape, I ain't gonna hand it off to whatever cheeky little girl who bats their pretty eyelashes at me. You keep the stupid ticket."
"Me neither. I haven't been caught yet, maybe I need ta, be brought done a few pegs or two, eh? See, I know how some of ya can be... Ready ta fight at a moment's notice. Never askin' why, just swingin' yer fists! See?"
Chance watched her, normally he would be amused at her reenactments if they weren't so true. He shook his head, "That ain't always true..." he hid his left hand behind his back, not wanting to show off the many stitches on his knuckles from busting them open.
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Post by Street on Mar 14, 2010 14:56:31 GMT -5
"This was hard to get okay? I'se kept it in good shape, I ain't gonna hand it off to whatever cheeky little girl who bats their pretty eyelashes at me. You keep the stupid ticket."
Street looked at him. Her eyes were wide and she looked confused yet at the same time, amazed. "Pretty?" She asked him softly, testing the word on her tongue. "Ya think I'm pretty?" She asked, her voicing rising a few octaves. She clapped her hands, shoved the ticket into a pocket and hugged him tightly. "Yer me new best friend! Well, me only best friend, but still!" She cried, her words muffled by his chest. As she hugged him, her hand slipped into his pocket, testing the watch.
She pulled away slowly, her hands going behind her back. The watch's metal was chilly on her fingers. "I think I'm gonna like ya." She said. She meant it in a friendly way. Her simple mind was not able to comprehend the term 'romance'. She bit her lip, watching him hide his hand. "Did ya hurt yer hand?" She asked quickly, trying to change the subject. She knew that she would only be able to make him forget the watch in her hand as long as he kept talking about something else. Then she could place it in her pocket, hawk it, and get something to eat.
Street smiled at him, tilting her head, and waiting for him to say something. She felt adrenaline course through her veins, telling her to run. Her heart was beating fast and her palms were sweating and she had an uncontrollable urge to scratch the side of her head. But she remained in the innocent, hands clasped behind her back, pose.
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Post by Chance on Mar 14, 2010 15:23:51 GMT -5
"Pretty? Ya think I'm pretty? Yer me new best friend! Well, me only best friend, but still!"
Chance just shrugged with a mumble, "Well ya ain't ugly..." His eyes widened and he let out a little grunt when she threw her arms around him hugging him tightly, staring down at the girl in dismay, but was too stunned to squirm out of her grip. He was too surprised and distracted to notice her lift the pocket watch lightly out of his suit coat pocket.
"I think I'm gonna like ya."
Chance had never been told anything like this before. He scratched the back of his neck gingerly, a little dopey, as if he had just been hit by a truck and lived to tell the tale. He shook himself out of his surprise, staring down at the younger girl, with a hint of curiosity in his blue green eyes. "Um, okay..."
"Did ya hurt yer hand?"
He brought it out, sheepishly showing her his knuckles. "I don't fight just for the heck of it...sometimes it just happens..." He admitted to her, feeling strange doing so. He wasn't exactly trusting her, but he wasn't putting up his shell either. Basically Chance had no idea what was happening.
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Post by Street on Mar 14, 2010 15:37:03 GMT -5
Street grinned at him. "Not ugly!" She snorted. "I'm so ugly I scare away the crows." She chuckled, pleased with her joke. "Ya ain't so bad yerself." She said cheerfully, nodding to him. She looked at him. "I'm sorry. That was forward of me, wasn't it? Sorry, but I don't know how ta act around people, never did. 'Least that's the orphanage people told me." She mimicked a hoity-toity, "Dear me child, don't ya know how ta act? No one will ever adopt ya if ya continue ta act like that."
She grinned. "Never wanted ta be adopted anyway." She nodded at him eagerly. "I'm tellin' the truth. That's one thing I always try ta do, tell the truth. Yer a good boy. Much nicer then some of the others I met." She sighed thoughtfully. "Of course, I haven't talk ta many people. I tend ta drift alot and all, never much time ta talk ta anyone." She scratched the back of her leg with one bare foot. "This here's probably the first conversation I've had in a long time."
"I don't fight just for the heck of it...sometimes it just happens..."
Street couldn't help it, she kept the watch securely in one hand and touched his knuckles with the other. "Does it hurt?" She asked softly. "Looks like it would. Ya must be awful brave ta fight this many times, get hurt this many times and never complain about it." She smiled sadly. "Hmm... Lots of scars. Gotta be careful what ya hit, ya know that right? Don't go punchin' walls or anything..."
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Post by Chance on Mar 14, 2010 18:22:03 GMT -5
"Not ugly! I'm so ugly I scare away the crows. Ya ain't so bad yerself. I'm sorry. That was forward of me, wasn't it? Sorry, but I don't know how ta act around people, never did. 'Least that's the orphanage people told me. Dear me child, don't ya know how ta act? No one will ever adopt ya if ya continue ta act like that."
Chance listened to her intently, ignoring his newspapers for the last few moments, he shrugged at her when she asked if she was being forward. "It's okay I don't really care..."
"Never wanted ta be adopted anyway."
Chance nodded, trying to get an ink smudge off his hand. "Guess I can understand that."
"I'm tellin' the truth. That's one thing I always try ta do, tell the truth. Yer a good boy. Much nicer then some of the others I met. Of course, I haven't talk ta many people. I tend ta drift a lot and all, never much time ta talk ta anyone. This here's probably the first conversation I've had in a long time."
Chance nodded, "No wonder you're callin' me nice than, ya got nobody ta compare me ta. Nobody else would call me that."
"Does it hurt? Looks like it would. Ya must be awful brave ta fight this many times, get hurt this many times and never complain about it."
He stared at the girl, his expression a rare thoughtful one, before saying at length. "After a while...you get used to getting hurt."
"Hmm... Lots of scars. Gotta be careful what ya hit, ya know that right? Don't go punchin' walls or anything..."
"Yeah, I guess..." Was the girl...worried about him? Did she...care? Chance had a funny feeling in his chest, something he wasn't used to feeling. Like he wanted to let loose, to be himself, whatever himself was.
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Post by Street on Mar 14, 2010 18:32:11 GMT -5
"No wonder you're callin' me nice than, ya got nobody ta compare me ta. Nobody else would call me that."
Street shook her head, smiling softly. "No, that ain't it. Ya don;t have ta talk ta someone ta know whether or not they're kind. Ya can see it just be lookin' at them. I've seen many people in my fifteen years. They all had a cold, dead look in their eyes." She looked at him, her grey eyes meeting his. She nodded, seeing what she wanted to. "Yes, yer eyes are very... unusual. They say 'leave me alone', but ya don't really want ta be alone, do ya? Otherwise ya wouldn't have talked ta me for so long." She said.
"After a while...you get used to getting hurt."
"Do ya?" She asked, a little shocked by this. "I don't think I would, not ever. Then again, I'm a girl, and I'm a wimpy one at that." She hummed something, scratching the itch on her head with her free hand. The one that was not behind her back holding the watch, that is. Street sighed and looked at Chance.
"So, Chance..." She felt weird using his name, but she continued on. "I know yer a newsie, but, uh... Hmm, how do I say this?" She asked herself, tapping her chin. "Ah, I'll just say it. Can I help? Ya know, ta make sure ya don't get inta any more trouble." She smiled at him cheerfully. She did not want to be by herself right now, not after meeting someone who actually talked to her. She knew she was tempting fate, but she couldn't help it.
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Post by Chance on Mar 14, 2010 19:55:48 GMT -5
"No, that ain't it. Ya don;t have ta talk ta someone ta know whether or not they're kind. Ya can see it just be lookin' at them. I've seen many people in my fifteen years. They all had a cold, dead look in their eyes. Yes, yer eyes are very... unusual. They say 'leave me alone', but ya don't really want ta be alone, do ya? Otherwise ya wouldn't have talked ta me for so long."
His eyes widened, and then he listened to the rest of what she had to say thoughtfully, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. How did she know all this? And if she saw it, why didn't anyone else? He nodded silently, a little bit reluctantly, but honestly. He hated being alone. It was just kind of something he got used to.
"So, Chance...I know yer a newsie, but, uh... Hmm, how do I say this? Ah, I'll just say it. Can I help? Ya know, ta make sure ya don't get inta any more trouble."
Chance was once again surprised. This girl had said so many things other people would never have dared to tell him, noticed so many things nobody else did, and surprised him over and over again. And now she was offering her help. He had no idea what to say to that. All the emotions he usually never ever showed were reaching his throat. He shook his head, this wasn't like him. He had to get the old Chance back.
"I appreciate your offer. I really do. I don't want everybody ta hate me. I don't want to be alone. But I've been doin' things for myself for so long...I couldn't take yar help even if I knew how to. But...thanks...a lot."
He nodded, meeting her gaze with his unusually harsh but sad eyes, unable to express everything he wanted to say to her outloud.
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