A/N: *Blinks at the computer* I forget where I am. uhhh. If this chappie
is a bit awkward, sorry, but I haven't been able to update for the past few
days so I've kinda lost my place. But never fear! Derby is here. and
updating! Oh, there will be more romancey stuff later, but I want to get
through this part first. And then Skittery is mine! Bwah ha ha! *Cough*
Disclaimer: Read the first few. ^_^
`*`*`*`*`
"I'm Mr. Blise. Yes, pronounced bliss." Blue eyes smiled, crinkling at the corners. A wide smile played upon the man's lips. His voice matched his jolly face. He seemed like a grandparent rather than a journalist.
The newsgirls crowded around him that afternoon in Tibby's, eager to hear what help he could offer. David had introduced them earlier that morning; he was hopeful that he could help persuade Weasel to give the girls fair rights.
"So you can help us, right? I mean, with da strike an' all?" Poem asked him, mentally conjuring a picture of a big victory celebration after they defeated Weasel. She smiled inwardly.
"I believe so. After all, the press must be more wary of the newsies, especially after the strike against Pulitzer. I do reckon that your strike for equal rights could start a new wave of awareness." Blise replied. He spoke with an uptown accent that gave off an air of sophistication.
He was dressed like royalty, to the girls at least. His black military style coat was adorned with elegant gold buttons. The light bounced gently off his engraved gold pocket watch and matching cuff links. His gray hair was neatly combed, and his shoes shined like a new penny.
He took out a small card from his breast pocket and put it on the table. "My card. It has everything you will need to know to contact me. I think this strike could be a huge story. Don't let them get you down, girls." He smiled a last time and left, the small bell on the door tinkled cheerfully.
The girls stared numbly at the table. Every pair of eyes rested on the card.
Stress picked it up and read aloud, "Jeremy Blise. Professional Journalist. 145 Luderitz Avenue, South-West, Manhattan." She whistled, "Luderitz Avenue, ain't many people from aroun' here live dere."
Cake nodded, "Yeah, dem hoity-toity houses and papes delivered to da doors!"
Diamonds sighed, putting her elbows on the table. It wasn't often any big shot like Blise would have an interest in a newsie's strike. But he had seemed friendly enough, and had taken a few notes during the conversation.
"You'se think he'll actually help us?" Dizzy queried, pocketing the card. It may come in handy later on.
"I guess we'se have ta wait an' see." Diamonds said. The others turned back to their lunches, deciding they'd have to follow Diamond's words.
Denton sat in a solitary corner, half hidden by a shadow. He hadn't intended to listen to the journalist's conversation with the girls, but he'd come at the right time. He quietly but furiously wrote down things he had heard, thinking they would help him figure out a few things about Blise.
Blise had been polite and cheery, but Denton felt something was odd about him. He knew most journalists would never just take on the girl's story like that. And unless Blise was desperate or plain bored, he wouldn't have helped them, it was a job risk.
"I don't think you should trust Blise." Denton blurted, walking towards the girl's tables. They raised skeptical eyebrows and tossed their hats at him.
"If I'se didn't know bettah, I'd t'ink you'se jealous!" Lit'l Bit snickered, half angry that Denton would barge in on them like that. It wasn't his business.
The others laughed, agreeing.
Denton quickly started explaining his theory, telling them his notes just didn't add up.
The girls glared or snickered again, cutting Denton's speech off. They had found someone who would help them, he hadn't offered.
Cake rolled her eyes, and showed Denton the card Dizzy had retrieved from her pocket. "See? He's poifectly trustwoithy!" She said, exasperated.
Denton examined the card, even taking out his glasses to search it. Poem snatched the card back, Denton's hands still in front of him.
"I'se don't know what you'se so worried about. He ain't a sleaze." She shook her head, as if trying to clear his words from her head.
He sighed and turned away from the table. "I suppose you could be right. Perhaps he thinks it could be a worth while story."
"Of coise it's woith while! It's our rights." Selley spoke up. She had been listening intently the entire time. Denton opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and headed towards the door.
The slight breeze swayed lazily into the restaurant, the door wide open.
"Just remember, looks can be deceiving." He warned, shutting the door softly behind him.
They all looked at each other. Denton was acting strange. He had been so willing to help the boys with their strike, were girls not important?
"Jealous! Jealous!" Smudge taunted the door; not realizing Denton had already left. She stopped grinning and looked at the faces staring at her. Derby coughed and buried her face in a menu.
`*`*`*`*`
"Well Blise, what have you found out?" The man leaned back in his heavy leather chair, pursing his lips. He narrowed his eyes, expectant of an answer.
Blise smiled, "Quite a bit, sir. These girls are indeed taking this strike to extremes. They haven't sold any papers for two days so far, I expect it to last a few weeks."
The man breathed deeply, and lit a pipe. He slipped it in his mouth and paced the room. "This 'strike' of theirs could cost me more than is needed, Blise. You do know that." He peered at Blise, blowing a hazy ring of smoke.
"Er. yes sir, I'm quite aware. I took some notes, they might be of some interest to you." Blise ran a hand through his hair; the smell of sweet tobacco filled his nose.
"Mm. So I see. Give them here." The man replied, grasping the notebook in his heavily ringed hands, his face contorted into a look of disgust as he scanned the notes. "Ridiculous. Absurd. I won't have it!"
Blise sat down nervously, wringing his wrists, waiting the judgment.
The man crumpled the notes in his fist and tossed theme into a wastebasket. "Time will stop before I have these over-praised urchins going on strike. They won't succeed. Will they, Blise?" a sneering face leered into Blise's.
"N.. No sir. Absolutely not." He answered, fumbling to put his coat on.
"Make sure of it."
Blise nodded curtly and near ran out the door.
`*`*`*`*`
Denton flipped open a thick leather bound book engraved with gold leaf writing on the cover. The swish of the pages was oddly calming.
"Nothing. Nothing on Blise. He can't be as willing as they think!" He mumbled to himself. The light flickered faintly above him, the library was old nothing worked as well as it had in its prime days.
He snapped the book shut with gusto and rubbed his temple.
`*`*`*`*`
"Ain't so rich anymore are ya Pulitzer!" Smudge laughed, kicking her sheets. She mumbled more nonsense before finally falling out of her dream and into blank sleep.
Prairie looked into the darkness of the bunks and quietly slipped out of her bed. She pulled on a light sweater found on the floor before giving the room a last look and gently pulling open the window.
She landed lightly on the fire escape and climbed down, adjusting her cap and took out a small candle she had retrieved last moment. A quick swipe of a match on a tree trunk set the wick alight.
Putting a hand over the flame, she jogged to a large stone building. The pillars in the front loomed in the dark. She shuddered and tried the heavy wooden doors. Locked. She could see a dim light inside, and knew the windows wouldn't have been locked yet.
Prairie swung around to the side of the building and lifted a window, slipped inside and adjusted her eyes to the musty gloom.
--- From the Demented desk of Derby: Ooo! Sorta cliffhanger! Stay tuned folks.
Disclaimer: Read the first few. ^_^
`*`*`*`*`
"I'm Mr. Blise. Yes, pronounced bliss." Blue eyes smiled, crinkling at the corners. A wide smile played upon the man's lips. His voice matched his jolly face. He seemed like a grandparent rather than a journalist.
The newsgirls crowded around him that afternoon in Tibby's, eager to hear what help he could offer. David had introduced them earlier that morning; he was hopeful that he could help persuade Weasel to give the girls fair rights.
"So you can help us, right? I mean, with da strike an' all?" Poem asked him, mentally conjuring a picture of a big victory celebration after they defeated Weasel. She smiled inwardly.
"I believe so. After all, the press must be more wary of the newsies, especially after the strike against Pulitzer. I do reckon that your strike for equal rights could start a new wave of awareness." Blise replied. He spoke with an uptown accent that gave off an air of sophistication.
He was dressed like royalty, to the girls at least. His black military style coat was adorned with elegant gold buttons. The light bounced gently off his engraved gold pocket watch and matching cuff links. His gray hair was neatly combed, and his shoes shined like a new penny.
He took out a small card from his breast pocket and put it on the table. "My card. It has everything you will need to know to contact me. I think this strike could be a huge story. Don't let them get you down, girls." He smiled a last time and left, the small bell on the door tinkled cheerfully.
The girls stared numbly at the table. Every pair of eyes rested on the card.
Stress picked it up and read aloud, "Jeremy Blise. Professional Journalist. 145 Luderitz Avenue, South-West, Manhattan." She whistled, "Luderitz Avenue, ain't many people from aroun' here live dere."
Cake nodded, "Yeah, dem hoity-toity houses and papes delivered to da doors!"
Diamonds sighed, putting her elbows on the table. It wasn't often any big shot like Blise would have an interest in a newsie's strike. But he had seemed friendly enough, and had taken a few notes during the conversation.
"You'se think he'll actually help us?" Dizzy queried, pocketing the card. It may come in handy later on.
"I guess we'se have ta wait an' see." Diamonds said. The others turned back to their lunches, deciding they'd have to follow Diamond's words.
Denton sat in a solitary corner, half hidden by a shadow. He hadn't intended to listen to the journalist's conversation with the girls, but he'd come at the right time. He quietly but furiously wrote down things he had heard, thinking they would help him figure out a few things about Blise.
Blise had been polite and cheery, but Denton felt something was odd about him. He knew most journalists would never just take on the girl's story like that. And unless Blise was desperate or plain bored, he wouldn't have helped them, it was a job risk.
"I don't think you should trust Blise." Denton blurted, walking towards the girl's tables. They raised skeptical eyebrows and tossed their hats at him.
"If I'se didn't know bettah, I'd t'ink you'se jealous!" Lit'l Bit snickered, half angry that Denton would barge in on them like that. It wasn't his business.
The others laughed, agreeing.
Denton quickly started explaining his theory, telling them his notes just didn't add up.
The girls glared or snickered again, cutting Denton's speech off. They had found someone who would help them, he hadn't offered.
Cake rolled her eyes, and showed Denton the card Dizzy had retrieved from her pocket. "See? He's poifectly trustwoithy!" She said, exasperated.
Denton examined the card, even taking out his glasses to search it. Poem snatched the card back, Denton's hands still in front of him.
"I'se don't know what you'se so worried about. He ain't a sleaze." She shook her head, as if trying to clear his words from her head.
He sighed and turned away from the table. "I suppose you could be right. Perhaps he thinks it could be a worth while story."
"Of coise it's woith while! It's our rights." Selley spoke up. She had been listening intently the entire time. Denton opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and headed towards the door.
The slight breeze swayed lazily into the restaurant, the door wide open.
"Just remember, looks can be deceiving." He warned, shutting the door softly behind him.
They all looked at each other. Denton was acting strange. He had been so willing to help the boys with their strike, were girls not important?
"Jealous! Jealous!" Smudge taunted the door; not realizing Denton had already left. She stopped grinning and looked at the faces staring at her. Derby coughed and buried her face in a menu.
`*`*`*`*`
"Well Blise, what have you found out?" The man leaned back in his heavy leather chair, pursing his lips. He narrowed his eyes, expectant of an answer.
Blise smiled, "Quite a bit, sir. These girls are indeed taking this strike to extremes. They haven't sold any papers for two days so far, I expect it to last a few weeks."
The man breathed deeply, and lit a pipe. He slipped it in his mouth and paced the room. "This 'strike' of theirs could cost me more than is needed, Blise. You do know that." He peered at Blise, blowing a hazy ring of smoke.
"Er. yes sir, I'm quite aware. I took some notes, they might be of some interest to you." Blise ran a hand through his hair; the smell of sweet tobacco filled his nose.
"Mm. So I see. Give them here." The man replied, grasping the notebook in his heavily ringed hands, his face contorted into a look of disgust as he scanned the notes. "Ridiculous. Absurd. I won't have it!"
Blise sat down nervously, wringing his wrists, waiting the judgment.
The man crumpled the notes in his fist and tossed theme into a wastebasket. "Time will stop before I have these over-praised urchins going on strike. They won't succeed. Will they, Blise?" a sneering face leered into Blise's.
"N.. No sir. Absolutely not." He answered, fumbling to put his coat on.
"Make sure of it."
Blise nodded curtly and near ran out the door.
`*`*`*`*`
Denton flipped open a thick leather bound book engraved with gold leaf writing on the cover. The swish of the pages was oddly calming.
"Nothing. Nothing on Blise. He can't be as willing as they think!" He mumbled to himself. The light flickered faintly above him, the library was old nothing worked as well as it had in its prime days.
He snapped the book shut with gusto and rubbed his temple.
`*`*`*`*`
"Ain't so rich anymore are ya Pulitzer!" Smudge laughed, kicking her sheets. She mumbled more nonsense before finally falling out of her dream and into blank sleep.
Prairie looked into the darkness of the bunks and quietly slipped out of her bed. She pulled on a light sweater found on the floor before giving the room a last look and gently pulling open the window.
She landed lightly on the fire escape and climbed down, adjusting her cap and took out a small candle she had retrieved last moment. A quick swipe of a match on a tree trunk set the wick alight.
Putting a hand over the flame, she jogged to a large stone building. The pillars in the front loomed in the dark. She shuddered and tried the heavy wooden doors. Locked. She could see a dim light inside, and knew the windows wouldn't have been locked yet.
Prairie swung around to the side of the building and lifted a window, slipped inside and adjusted her eyes to the musty gloom.
--- From the Demented desk of Derby: Ooo! Sorta cliffhanger! Stay tuned folks.
