H A N D S T A N D-open

[Brooklyn]

Brooklyn skipped down two steps, jumped onto the banister and slid sideways down the length of the steps. He jumped off before the end and landed on the balls of his feet in the lobby of the Brooklyn Lodging House. Stretching his arms above his head, and hearing his joints pop back into place, he grinned his cocky, lopsided grin and stepped up to the front desk. The clerk was off today. Brooklyn was going to have fun. He sat on the chair and swung his feet onto the desk and placed his hands behind his head.

Brooklyn spotted himself in the spotted mirror above the fireplace in the next room. He was good looking, that was obvious. He had a somewhat boyish face, and he was thin, but he was good looking. Maybe even dashing. Brooklyn grinned at the thought of this and watched his teeth flash in the mirror. Brooklyn stopped smiling suddenly. His eyes fell to the couch in the room. So many things had happened there. That's where, nursing a black eye and a cracked rib, he had realized he first loved Doll. He had just looked at her and knew by the way his stomach flipped, his heart beat, and his palms grew damp.

He had been in a bar fight. Again. But this one was different. He was thirteen, it was a little after Soldier died. Brooklyn still lived at home, but he spent a lot of time at the LH. He knew Soldier. He knew Doll. He had seen what it had done to her, and it hurt him. Hurt him so bad... A boy had something mean about Soldier and Doll, something along the lines of 'he deserved it, his sister too'. Brooklyn did not mind the Soldier comment, he did not know the boy that well. He had no clue what had happened. But the comment about Doll? He had seen red. Even thirteen and much smaller then the other boy, he had flown at him with his fists flying. And when the other Brooks dragged him to the LH, and he had looked at Doll... He knew he loved her. He had been sitting on the couch.

Brooklyn was not smiling now. His mind was somewhere else. He thought about his screwed up life. Kicked out shortly after the bar fight, he had moved into the LH. Then he started his ways. He only became a bird to get closer to Doll. He only stayed a bird because he had slept with almost every girl in Brooklyn, and they were all gossips. Brooklyn blinked, shocked to find himself so emotional. He had everything he ever wanted. Booze, smokes, women... But he didn't want them. He wanted Doll. He always had.

His hands touched her soft hair, letting it fall through his fingers. He sighed happily and took her by her small waist and pulled her close. He hugged her, never wanting to let her go. His heart sang joyfully. Doll! Doll! He turned her, to see her face and those brown eyes... Instead, he found himself holding Tick Tock.

Brooklyn's stomach dropped. Tick-Tock... She was beautiful and sweet and she was great. Wonderful. Everything. He did love her, honestly. Not like he loved the girl in the bar, or the expensive whiskey, no, he loved her in the way a man loves his wife, loves the woman he wants to spend his whole life with. That was love. He had found it... Yet, Brooklyn could not stop the dreams about the brown haired girl, the one who never looked at him...

And then there was Penny. He did not know what to think about her. Rich, pretty, a good girl. She was something exotic. A fruit he had never tasted before? Was he interested? Hell yes. Was he going to risk everything to try the fruit? Probably. For no matter how many times Brooklyn promised himself, promised Tick... He always made her cry. He needed to stop screwing up his life. He needed to stop. He needed to stop loving Doll, watching Penny. He needed to take Tick by her beautiful shoulders and kiss her like she had never been kissed. He needed to show her, that he, Brooklyn, was good enough for her.

However... That was what he should do. Not what he would do.

He was Brooklyn.

[Tick-Tock]

Tick-Tock's hands steadily twisted her hair into a braid as she thought about what the day might hold for her. Well, she was going birding, that was for sure, mixed with selling if she could manage it. Then maybe she would make a trip to Manhattan–well, more like to Tibby's–for some sort of meal. After that she'd maybe go to her beam at the docks and think for a while…

But, this was starting to become a routine for the blonde. Selling, birding, Tibby's, thinking, passing out on her bunk to just repeat it again. She'd been going on like this for a week, and yet she had no idea why she'd started it. Maybe it was just a short phase. Not like it'd matter, it wasn't like she'd be missed around her borough as long as she provided information regularly. A part of her had come to the conclusion that the more time she spent out of the lodging house, the better.

But why would it be better to avoid her home? It didn't make much sense. She sighed as her mind mulled over this and she started toward the stairs from the girl's bunks. Her hands became busy and tied off the ribbon to keep the braid in place. There wasn't much to keep away from in Brooklyn. Bullseye was gone–a fact she had gotten used to, though she woke up from nightmares every few days of the fire–and she had started to move on and forget. (The first part was hard to do, mainly because she was sort of unwilling to do so.) There wasn't anyone she didn't get along with. Hell, she preferred not to talk.

The thought came to her when her foot touched the first stair. Brooklyn. That's what she was keeping away from. Not because she didn't like him–that wasn't even remotely true. It was because of the way she felt around him. The slight sensation of butterflies when he looked at her, the jealousy and hurt she felt when she heard or saw him flirting with another girl, the way she tried acting like she didn't care when she talked to him even though come of those conversations were started by her being upset over something he'd done.

Tick started walking slowly down the stairs, fingers trailing on the banister. Something he'd done…why did she allow herself to be compromised by what Brooklyn did? He was just another bird, right? A co-worker of sorts, nothing to think of as more than a friend. But she wanted to think of him as more than a friend–no–she wanted to be more than a friend!

That wasn't possible, however. He was Brooklyn, she'd heard and seen that he wasn't the kind of guy to stick with one girl too long. She was just another exploit, another flavor. No true romance…just another girl…she doubted that he even felt any kind of romantic emotion about her, if anything interest.

Tick-Tock finally stepped off the final step and looked up from the ground as she walked to the clerk's desk. Her breath nearly caught. Oh, God, he was there! Why was he there? She worked to keep heat from even beginning to rise in her cheeks. She needed to say collected…indifferent. She stopped by the desk and glanced over Brooklyn what she could only hope was casually; she brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and looked toward the door, as if expecting someone.

A single word slipped out before she could stop it, her voice quiet and relaxed, "Hello."

[Brooklyn]

The chair's front legs slammed to the ground, cracking one of them. Brooklyn tried to play it off, but to no avail. He was horribly embarrassed and as he blushed brilliantly, he rubbed the back of his neck, nodded to her and said in a shaky voice, "Tickers." He tried to keep out of his voice the way his heart soared and his stomach sank at the sight of her. He was beyond pleased, but also horribly guilty. "How are you?" He asked cheerfully, leaving his seat to come around to her.

He leaned against the counter and surveyed her. "I like you hair." He said, wondering wildly if he was in trouble again. Really, all he had done was pinch the serving girl's leg in O'Brady's... Nothing more. And that was it.

Brooklyn surveyed her face seriously. He was rarely serious, not even when the Irving Hall burnt down. But now his face was drawn and pale, his usually vibrant brown eyes were dull and lifeless, even his hair seemed to turned paler. Brooklyn realized horribly that he knew nothing of Tick-Tock. He only knew that he had won her, somewhat, that she was beautiful and kind and a good bird, but other then that... Where did she come from? Who was she really?

Brooklyn came from Brooklyn, grew up in the tenement buildings adjacent to the Lodging House. He had spent his days playing with the children there. Doll, Soldier, Spot, Bear... He remembered Lady and Trash, Temper and Skidz. He also remembered the shy, blonde haired girl who was Tick. He had brought her chocolates for Valentine's Day, to afraid or intimidated to hand them to Doll.

Phineas was nervous. His palms were sweating and he clutched the small chocolate box and the slowly withering flower in his other hand. He wiped his palm on his pants leg. He could not get Doll's attention. People were looking at him. Phineas turned abrubtly and spotted the blonde haired girl in the corner, her face covered. He stalked over to her and shoved the box and flower in her face. "Happy Valentine's Day." He muttered, his face beet red.

Brooklyn snapped back to the present. Was it an important day? Was it Valentine's Day? Christmas? Nonchalantly, he glanced out the window... No snow... Was it her birthday! Oh God, had he forgotten her birthday. Brooklyn's hand crept to his pocket, feeling it casually. No money! Crap! What was he going to do?

Brooklyn kept his eyes fixed on Tick, using his developed skill of multi-tasking. When you are trying to entertain a boring, simpering girl, whild trying to eavesdrop on the gents at the next table, you learn pretty quickly hos to divide your attention easily and without notice. "So... How are you?" He asked, unsually careful and hesitant as his hands scrambled to find a penny, to find anything.