F R E E AS A B I R D -open-

[Sneak]

It was gray as usual in Brooklyn. Sneaks walked along the dock, hands in his pockets, breathing in deep breaths of air now and then, the salty taste on his tongue. Another day was winding down. As usual, he didn't know the exact date. That didn't really matter to the boy as long as he knew what he needed to know, which was mostly what he already knew. He watched loose newspaper pages tumbling down the dock, being picked up by the wind. He listened to the light whistling wind through the crates and the low hum in his ears. He bent to examine a couple scrap litter and picked up an old butt left behind probably by one of the many dock workers. He dusted it off a little, rolling it between his fingers before pocketing it. He could save it for himself when he needed rewarding. Either that or it was guaranteed at least somebody at the lodge would want it. He could trade it off. Maybe for stockings that his toes wouldn't stick out of. That could be nice.

He patted his pocket, making sure of his lodging rent and then moved on, taking a small drawn out sigh, his fingers rubbing the heavy scratchy material of his trousers. His green eyes roamed the length of the dock. So much time. He supposed he should be used to time lagging. Just for some reason it made him just as restless now as it did when he was in the refuge. The sixteen year old made his way over to a beam, looking up at it from below. He found a place to put his foot and then clung to the long protruding wooden structure, hauling himself up. He balanced while he got into position, so the beam wouldn't be too hard on his back and laid on it, facing up to the sky. He put his arms behind his head and waited for his breathing to return to its normal pace after his physical climbing.

He looked up at the thick clouds, watching birds fly across the sky over the place where he lied. This whole expanse was theirs. They could go wherever they wanted, wherever had the better view, wherever had the better weather. Anywhere. They were free to circle and soar and hover. He was like those birds. He was free. No bars on his windows. The only person he had to take orders from was Spot. Spot and the most experienced bird at his side, Doll. That was all. He was not confined. He too had space and time. He was free as a bird. And it would stay that way as long as he kept himself out of the refuge. He listened to the birds and closed his eyes, wondering exactly how difficult that task would be.

[falcon]

Falcon would take being a pickpocket over a Newsie any day. There was alot of freedom in being a pickpocket. Less rules, no rent; New York was your playground. All you had to do was clean up your track marks after left a place, and well-ah! Your job was done. Plus, being a pickpocket, you got to make your own decision. Sure, there was a Leader of the pickpockets- August- but it wasn't like being stuck in a Lodging House where if you didn't pay the rent, you were cut out. Nope; it was much, much easier and much, much simpler.

Although, in Falcon's mind, being a pickpocket required you to think differently. A bit more strategic, with a cunning outlook on things. If you had that, you were good to go. Softly walking her way through a crowd of people, she slipped her tiny hand into a random bag, pulling out a handful of who-knows-what.

Taking a look up at the sky, Falcon sighed, staring at the endless sky; a deep hazy gray. Her thoughts drifted off along with the gray clouds, inhaling the salty air as she buried herself in thoughts. Moments later, she snapped out of it, giving her head a small, quick shake. Pulling her hair behind her ears, she found herself in Brooklyn, right by the docks. The familiar squwaking of birds overhead greeted her, and the scuffling of feet on the wooden docks signaled the abundance of Newsies and people. Even if she wasn't a Harlem or a Delancey, she still had to be careful around here. Brooklyn Newsies were some of the most territorial out there. But, standing at a measly 4'11, it was easy for her to slip by, almost unnoticed.

Fingering with whatever was in her pocket, she quickly identified it as some sort of watch; she felt a smooth, glassy face and a number of smooth chains linked together. Her blue eyes quickly switched over to a figure, right in the corner of her vision. A boy, older then her for sure, just relaxing. She turned to him and gave him a quizzical look, as if to say, Is relaxing on the dock fun?.

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