Bitter went in first, swinging feet first in through the window and then helping Whiskey once she hit the floor. Bitter crept towards the door and leaned down near the cracks, listening for Trick's voice. It was not too long until his voice beamed from below and Bitter smirked at Whiskey, motioning for her to come closer to the door.
"Dis week will be full a' wonderful victories for us all if you bums do ezactly what I tell ya ta do," Trick said, almost yelling at the talking newsies. "I'se got a great plan an' wit my great leadahship we'll be able ta take Brooklyn ovah by de end of de week," he stated loudly, followed by many voices cheering in the background.
Bitter snarled, "Right, like dat's gonna happen," she whispered to Whiskey who scowled back at her, hushing her right away as Trick began to speak again.
"We go aftah de main fightahs, de strongest boys, an' de strongest goils," he said, "One by one we'll soak dem 'til dere's barely anyone worth worrying about. An' dat is when we go aftah de leadah a' Brooklyn, Spot Conlon hisself."
There were more cheers and neither of the girls heard another word for there was a strange tapping at the window. Fade was coughing and holding her throat as she kicked the window hard, motioning for the girls to get out of there. Bitter instinctively shoved Whiskey out in front of her and tripped over her own feet, barely catching herself as she fell. Whiskey got through the window and looked wildly back at Bitter, who was lifting herself up from the ground as the door behind her slowly opened.
Bitter turned around and sprinted for the window, which Whiskey was just hopping out of and made it through, shutting the window behind her. Seeing a familiar face appear on the other side of it, she hissed at Whiskey to move faster and practically slid down the fire escape behind Whiskey, hearing the window open and voices screaming after her. Nothing stopped the four girls as they ran practically all the way to Brooklyn, Bitter pulling Whiskey along beside herself.
Whiskey and Bitter stopped right outside of the lodging house, watching Rook and Fade run through the doors without stopping. Bitter tried to catch her breath as she grabbed Whiskey and pulled her around the back way. "Can ya handle stairs?" she asked Whiskey, who's face was illuminated with pain.
Whiskey shook her head and Bitter sighed, pulling her towards the back door, both of them entering as quietly as they possibly could.
Although it did not really matter whether they were quiet or not, considering the lodging house was already in an uproar. Bitter and Whiskey could have kicked open the back door and still not have been noticed. The two proceeded to inch their way up the steps to the bunkroom, trying to stay in the shadows and not draw attention to themselves. They were almost at their destination when none other than Spot Conlon blocked their way, an arm extended casually across the stairwell.
"Bittah, Whiskey," he acknowledged, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary that they would be seen together, even after he had gone to great lengths to dissuade contact between the two. "You mind tellin' me what da hell's goin' on here? I jus' don' like bein' left in da dark," he finished sarcastically as he coolly eyed the two.
"Listen, cuz I ain't sayin' it twice. Trick's got himself a plan," Bitter started before being interrupted by Whiskey.
"Damn good one too, solid, if not just a little cliche..." Whiskey trailed off, the cynicism ruined as soon as Bitter elbowed her in the gut.
Spot's eyes narrowed and grew cold at this news. "I don' even wanna know how you'se found out dat kinda information," he trailed off, running a hand over his face in frustration. "You was sayin'?"
Whiskey left Bitter's side and hobbled into the bunkroom, letting Bitter and Spot discuss what had happened. All she could process at the moment was pain, and would not have been much help. Unless cynical, snide comments are considered helpful...she thought with a small smirk as she moved her leg the wrong way, hissed in pain, and lost consciousness.
"You was sayin'?" Spot prompted for the second time, as Bitter watched Whiskey make her way to the bunkroom.
"Yeah, well, dey got dis great idea dat da way ta take ovah Brooklyn is ta go about soakin' all our best goils and boys, so dat all dey got left ta deal wit is weaklings...although I don' think dat any a our boys could be considered weak," she trailed off, trying to read the reaction on Spot's face.
"Fuckers. Dey'se already doin' dat," Spot stated contemptuously, malice filling his ice-cold eyes.
Bitter shifted uncomfortably and leaned against the wall behind her. "You wanna heah dis or not," she said, leaving her mouth open in shock as she saw Whiskey's body crumpled up on the ground.
Spot turned around to see what she was gaping at and sighed, "Damnit," he said, watching Bitter hurry over to her unconscious friend and trying to lift her up by herself. Spot shook his head and helped Bitter carry Whiskey to her bunk. "Go get Doc?" Bitter suggested, too shocked to demand anything from him.
Spot frowned and left the room reluctantly, hoping they would have a chance to talk later on in the evening to get things cleared up. Bitter took out a handkerchief and wiped Whiskey's face off, making the girl twitch and regain consciousness.
"'Mornin' sunshine," Bitter said with a smirk.
Whiskey groaned, "What de hell…" she muttered under her breath as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, only to have Bitter push her down, her stern look enough to keep Whiskey still. "Ya didn't get.." Whiskey started, her question finished as Doc waltzed into the room, arms crossed.
"I leave you two alone for long enough an' ya get hoit or pass out," she stated, glancing over Whiskey.
"What's it dis time, yer leg?" she asked, examining her bad leg. Whiskey replied with a yelp as Doc touched her weak leg, receiving a concerned look from Doc.
"I'se gonna wrap dis, an' I want ya in bed for at least two days an' I mean it dis time, or I'll get ya in de sick room," Doc said, pulling out some bandages from her bag.
Whiskey was still dazed and a tad bit confused at what had happened. Because, damnit. Rourkes. Don't. Faint. "Shit, Doc! Two whole days? Ya know how much shit id gonna go down in two days?!" she made a guttural, frustrated "argh" when Doc's only response was a unconcerned shrug.
"I can't stay in one place for two days! It's not gonna work, it's against me nature! Even if I want to folla yer orders an keep all bedridden an shit, me feet got a mind a dere own..." Whiskey warned Doc in whispers under her breath, causing Doc to wrap a little bit harsher than before. Whiskey became extremely quiet, waiting for Doc to finish her very painful business.
Bitter just looked at the scene with a small smirk on her face, knowing that the tables were turned this time, Whiskey bedridden and she up and about. "You hoid da docta, Whisk! No movin' from dat spot fer two days!" Bitter stated, the same small smirk plastered across her face.
"Spot," Whiskey stated seriously, "You can't condemn me ta dis. Dis id ridiculous, and me leg works fine!"
"Which id why ya fainted halfway inta da bunkroom? Nevah figured ya would be da faintin' type," Spot stated, knowing that accusing her of being the 'fainting type' would just piss her off more.
"I'm not, and I didn't, Rourkes. Don't. Faint. I just lost me bearings fer a second, I'se fine now, honest," Whiskey protested as Doc finished wrapping her leg.
"Sorry Whisk, but da doc said you'se gotta stay dere, nuthin' I kin do bout dat," Spot stated as he grasped Bitter's arm and led her out of the bunkroom, closing the door behind him and eager to continue the conversation they had started.
"You was sayin'?" Spot urged.
"Well," Bitter started, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, "Dey said something about a rumble, a quite unfair one, dirty fighting and they plan to either kill you or who knows what else." Bitter paused to watch Spot's face fill up with anger.
"And…" Spot said through gritted teeth.
Bitter sighed, "Dey're gonna try an' take over Brooklyn once an' for all, who knows what dey got planned for dose of us newsies dat our still alive…"she trailed off, her face scrunched up with thought and disgust.
Spot shook his head, letting a deep breath out while rubbing his forehead while he cursed under his breath.
Bitter just frowned and was about to say something when the door opened and Whiskey grabbed Bitter by the shirt, dragging her into the room and locking Spot out, throwing chairs up against the door. Bitter rose an eyebrow. "An' what de hell is she doin'?" she asked a very calm Doc.
Doc shrugged, "She wants ta break out or something, don't like de idea of stayin' in bed. Of coise dat's what she said, I think she's jist got a death wish," she said with a small smirk.
Bitter grabbed Whiskey's arm and pulled her over to the bed forcefully, making her sit down. "You need yer damn rest, an' don't you dare say I'm sidin' wit Conlon, 'cause I ain't," she started. "Listen, if we go out dere in our condition, esp. wit yer limp, den we'se ain't gonna come back in one piece ya heah me?" she said, pausing to glare at Whiskey, who was looking at the ground, glaring at the door as loud bangs sounded, Spot obviously trying to break through.
Whiskey looked up for a brief second and nodded. "Yeah I heah ya," she said with a frown.
"Well den heah dis too Whiskey. Harlem is jist waitin' for a chance to hoit us bad, any of de newsies, but mostly us, an' we ain't in de condition to run or fight," Bitter said, stopping as she got a strange look from Whiskey.
"I have a plan," Bitter said finally, and shook her head as she saw Whiskey's face light up with a smirk.
"Well let's heah it," Whiskey exclaimed.
Bitter gave a glare to Doc, who just rolled her eyes and quickly moved the furniture, stepping out of the room.
Once Bitter was satisfied with Doc and Spot yelling, she continued. "Airight, we humor Spot, I'll take it easy an' you stay in bed for two days, den we lay low, I ain't lettin' ya fight until that leg is in good condition," Bitter said, looking sternly at Whiskey who just held up her hands in defense.
"Airight, airight, we have a deal," Whiskey said, spitshaking with Bitter just as Spot stormed into the room.
"What de hell is goin' on?" he said, seeing the two girls smirking at each other.
Bitter got up quickly, watching Whiskey lay down and then pushing past Spot, "Jist talkin' sense inta Whiskey," she stated before leaving the room.
"Yep Spot, I'se gonna try me part at bein' bed ridden," Whiskey stated with one of the biggest, most condescending smiles she could muster.
Spot gave her a weary look of suspicion and backed out of the room, slowly, to go track down Bitter. Whiskey eased herself under the blanket of the bunk and resigned herself to playing the part of a lazy bum for all it was worth, a smirk still on her face as she recalled Spot's confused look when Bitter broke the news to him.
~ ~ ~
"Hey! Wait up!" Spot yelled after Bitter's disappearing figure.
Bitter pretended not to hear him as she hurried off to the bathroom. He lost sight of her as he turned a corner and threw up his arms. He sat down on the ground, too exhausted to move. Night after night Spot had stayed up worrying about the two girls and although he was tough, he was not immortal and needed sleep too.
He fell asleep on the ground, to be found by an amused Bitter, who kicked him lightly in the stomach to wake him up. "C'mon mutt, you need rest," she said, holding her hand out to him.
Spot gladly took it, letting her lead him to his room. "Go on, get in bed an' get some sleep," she said, following him to the bed and watching him sit down, kicking off his shoes before climbing in.
"G'night," she said, watching him yawn.
The yawn was contagious, seeing as Bitter yawned after Spot did, making him laugh.
"I think me Bittah needs some sleep too," he said, grabbing Bitter around the waist and pulling her into bed with him, not getting as much resistance as he thought he would.
"Spot, de boys are gonna get de wrong idea," she said, a bit sleepily. Spot just wrapped his arms tighter around her in response, wanting her by his side for the night.
"Hmm, I'm not tired Spot, I swear," she muttered, yawning again.
He smirked, "Suah ya ain't," he said.
She shook her head, but just laid there, resting peacefully in his arms. "So what are you an' Whiskey plannin' anyways?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.
Bitter groaned, attempting to pry his arms away from her body. "I knew dis was one a' yer tricks," she said, her voice getting very serious.
"Aw c'mon Bittah, I know you two are up ta something. Spill it," he said, keeping his arms around her body, knowing Bitter was too weak to fight much.
She shook her head, "Spot, I swear ta gawd..." she started, turning around to face him, his arms not budging from their position around her body. Spot leaned in and kissed her, shutting her up instantly.
She let the kiss last, but did not give him the pleasure of letting him deepen it. He soon let his lips trail off her own and raised an eyebrow. "Yer still mad," he said, affirming it to himself rather than asking her.
Bitter smirked and turned her body around so she was not facing him. She let Spot try to convince her to tell him her plans, but she just ignored his questions, closing her eyes and trying to sleep. He tried to persuade her with gifts of kisses all over her body, but she did not say a word.
Spot soon gave up and closed the distance between their bodies, keeping his arm wrapped around her as he shut his eyes, muttering "I love you" before he fell asleep. "Love you too," Bitter said with a smile, adding "mutt" after he kissed her neck one last time.
~ ~ ~
"Watta fuk?" Whiskey murmured as the bright purple, eight-legged dog continued to poke her in the shoulder...wait...that was a finger, not a paw. Her eyes opened slowly and focused on her surroundings, trying to figure out just who the offending finger belonged to. Specs.
"Watta fuk you doin' heah?" she asked, ever so ladylike as she ran a hand through heavily tangled hair, and busied the other with wiping a small trail of drool from the corner of her mouth. "Jack ain't kicked ya out, has he?" Whiskey joked with a smile as she tried to forcefully remove her hand from the auburn rats nest it had been attempting to smooth.
"Naw, jus thought I'd come an' see me goil, even if she did trick me inta givin' her an opportunity to sneak outta da lodgin' house," Specs stated, removing his bowler and letting his brown locks hang around his temples loosely.
"Yeah, well ya goil was tired a bein' treated like a damn invalid jus cuz she happened ta have a little bit a leg problem," Whiskey stated, much more clearly than earlier, and hopefully making a bit more sense than earlier. "Anyways, I'se back wheah I belong, an' dere ain't no way you'se can get me ta go back ta Manhattan witcha!"
Specs smiled at her declaration and cleared his voice. "Well, den it's a good thing I ain't plannin' on draggin' ya back, considerin' Spot's already found some way ta keep ya in bed, wheah ya belong, until yas bettah," he finished as Whiskey scowled.
"Yeah, yeah...well, you don't know all da details, now do ya?" she stated with a mischievous smirk.
"An' he never will," Bitter stated, making the couple look up. Her hair was everywhere and she had a sleepy smirk on her face, looking better than she had all week.
Whiskey smirked, "Looks like someone slept well," she muttered, unhappy that she had not.
"Yeah well when ya got a gorgeous guy sleeping next to you..." she started, trailing off as she got a look of shock from Whiskey.
"An' no, I didn't tell dat mutt anything Whiskey, although he cuts a good bargain," Bitter added, smirking as Specs' face flustered a little at what he thought she meant by that.
"Specs, don't think such things, an' leave me an Whiskey be so we can talk goil stuff," she said, shoving him out of the room and locking the door behind him.
"So?" Whiskey asked. An inquiring smirk graced Whiskey's face as her light green eyes danced with mischief. Bitter could tell Whiskey had already come to her own conclusions about what had happened between Spot and her, and she just sat there with a content little smile on her face as she watched Whiskey grow more and more perturbed.
After several moments of prodding Bitter for details Whiskey sighed and placed her hands on Bitter's shoulder. "Bittah, I'se ya best friend! Ya can tell me if ya fucked Spot, I won' think any less a ya!" Whiskey stated, knowing that mentioning the words 'fucked' and 'Spot' in the same sentence would elicit a reply from Bitter. Sure enough, moments later Whiskey found herself pushed back onto the pillow she'd raised herself from as a red faced Bitter looked down at her.
With a cackle she raised herself back up onto her elbows. "Well, at least I got a reaction outta ya!" Whiskey stated with a grin as she watched Bitter's semi-angry face crack into a smile.
"No. We didn' "fuck" as ya so delicately worded it," Bitter stated with a smile, "Jist slept tagether."
"Ah." Whiskey stated with a sarcastic nod. "Well don't dat just explain everythin'!"
"Shaddup!" Bitter stated with a grin as she knocked Whiskey's elbow out from under her, causing her to collapse with an unladylike "Ooof!"
Bitter laughed as the composed Whiskey went down. "So," she stated, changing the subject quickly, to avoid any retaliation on Whiskey's part, "You really plannin' on followin' through wit da docta's ordas?"
Whiskey frowned a bit, but nodded grudgingly. "Yeah, ain't no way Trick's gonna organize dat big of a rumble in two days time. 'Sides, I ain't gonna be in no condition foh da rumble if I'se don' get me act tagether," Whiskey admitted, running a hand over her tired face. A face that had seen its share of pain in the past month, the remnants of lines still hanging around the grimace she now wore as she moved her leg a little.
"You go on, 'sleep wit Spot' some more," Whiskey stated with a smile as she laid back down on the pillow. "An' send Specs in when you'se leave, I could use me own sleepin' buddy," Whiskey finished with a wink as Bitter chuckled lightly, retreating from the room.
~ ~ ~