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CHAPTER THREE: CUT TO THE CHASE
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Not long afterwards, she found herself eyeing up the establishment across the busy thoroughfare. Gold-gilt lettering named it "Tibby's Restaraunt," and it was just the place she was looking for. It seemed respectable enough to serve decent food, and, judging by the appearance of the customers that came through the door, she suspected it was reasonably priced as well. Cutting through the crowd, she made her way over to the green building, the string of bells affixed to the door jangling brightly as she stepped inside.
She found, several minutes later, that her suspicions had proven correct. She had slipped into the corner booth to observe the patrons as they came and went, and had even treated herself to a cup of coffee while she waited for her meal. The caffeinated drink warmed her considerably, and she savored the almost forgotten taste of it as she sipped from the mug, holding it cupped in her palms so as to warm cold-stiffened fingers.
Next mission, bed an' boahd. The thought had barely entered her mind when someone rapped hesitantly on the tabletop.
" 'Scuse me, miss, but we was jist wond'rin' if maybe you could switch tables wid' us? We'se waitin' on a couple 'a frien's an' we ain't all gonna be able tah fit 'round a two-seatah table..."
"Yeah, shoah, no problem." To indicate her sincerity, the girl turned to face the speaker as she stood, and fully intended to flash him a friendly smile before sliding out of the booth...
... until she was staring face-to-face with the last person she wanted to see.
-=-=-
Specs blinked, letting his mind take in all that had just happened. All that he and Dutchy had wanted was the table- just the table, so that Bumlets and Pie Eater could join them for a quick supper. So, with as much politeness as the work-worn newsboy could muster, he rapped his knuckles on the larger table where a single person sat in the corner. It wasn't even as though he had asked her to flat-out leave- as far as he could see, there was nothing wrong with the table that he and Dutchy had been occupying up until that moment.
But then the girl had frozen in her tracks- just froze, terror-filled eyes darting wildly like some cornered animal, and then the chipped mug slid out of her fingers, hitting the table with a clatter of dishes and silverware. He reared back just in time to dodge the spray of steaming coffee that splattered every which way, and at that moment the girl sprang into action. She dove, skittered under the table, and came up on the other side. The impact of their collision- rather, her shoulder thrown hard against his chest- sent him reeling back into Dutchy, and then she broke away, tearing out of the tiny restaurant as if he were the devil himself.
And that wasn't even the strange part. Before he even knew what was going on, Specs was shoved roughly out of the way as Dutchy lunged forward, right at her heels, shouting, "It's her! I tol' yah, Specs!"
And so, really, he had no other option but to follow.
-=-=-
Two-and-a-half blocks later, he was just beginning to think that maybe he'd made the wrong decision after all. The chase was a wild one- dodging carts, ducking between people, darting through trash-littered alleys- and still, it didn't slow its pace the slightest bit. Dutchy settled into a long-striding rhythm, his sights fixed ahead, while Specs toiled several paces behind, losing ground with each passing moment.
The girl had a good lead on them, one that only lengthened as storefronts and tenements flashed by. She herself flickered in and out of sight like some sort of wavering apparition, picking her way through the crowded thoroughfare with an almost inhuman deftness- a creature of shadow and dusky twilight, a phantom of his own imagining, and nothing more. Of course, that idea was about as absurd as it was poetic- after all, in the short moment in which she'd stared them down in Tibby's, the real, human emotion caught in her wide, haunted eyes was nothing he himself could have ever dreamed up.
At length, he drew even with Dutchy, straining to keep pace with his blond selling partner. "Dutch-" he rasped, panting raggedly, "C'mon... give it up... Ain't gonna catch 'er..."
"No!" Dutchy shook his head resolutely, lengthening his strides- a feat which Specs had thought impossible until that moment.
"Dutch-" He broke off sharply, the breath catching in his throat. He stumbled and lost pace, bent double in the middle of the street while a fit of coughing racked through him. When he could stand again- at least, enough to stagger out of the path of traffic- he wasn't surprised in the least to discover that both the girl and Dutchy were gone. With a resigned sigh, he trudged wearily towards the direction they had been running in.
-=-=-
If there was anything the girl hated more than being caught and cornered, she hadn't yet encountered it. There was no question about it: she was most definitely out of her element here, choosing unfamiliar streets at random as she sought to lose the boys who seemed so intent on catching her. As curious as she was concerning their motives, she really wasn't looking forward to any sort of back alleyway interrogation. Lowering her head, she pushed straining muscles to their final limit, ducking between a fruit vendor and his potential customer. She glanced around quickly, trying to choose a direction. But at this pace, there was no time to think, and barely enough time to react. She veered sharply off to the left into an appealing alleyway- and met solid wall closing in on three sides. She cursed bitterly, slamming the flat of her palm against the rough rust-red bricks, frustration blinding her from even the smarting pain she should have felt. She took half a second to collect herself, breathing hard, before turning just in time to find her one escape route suddenly filled with an explosion of noise and sound as the blond-haired boy skidded to a sharp halt in front of her.
/Well/, she thought, putting on a brave face, /I guess I could see what he wants/.
-=-=-
Not long afterwards, she found herself eyeing up the establishment across the busy thoroughfare. Gold-gilt lettering named it "Tibby's Restaraunt," and it was just the place she was looking for. It seemed respectable enough to serve decent food, and, judging by the appearance of the customers that came through the door, she suspected it was reasonably priced as well. Cutting through the crowd, she made her way over to the green building, the string of bells affixed to the door jangling brightly as she stepped inside.
She found, several minutes later, that her suspicions had proven correct. She had slipped into the corner booth to observe the patrons as they came and went, and had even treated herself to a cup of coffee while she waited for her meal. The caffeinated drink warmed her considerably, and she savored the almost forgotten taste of it as she sipped from the mug, holding it cupped in her palms so as to warm cold-stiffened fingers.
Next mission, bed an' boahd. The thought had barely entered her mind when someone rapped hesitantly on the tabletop.
" 'Scuse me, miss, but we was jist wond'rin' if maybe you could switch tables wid' us? We'se waitin' on a couple 'a frien's an' we ain't all gonna be able tah fit 'round a two-seatah table..."
"Yeah, shoah, no problem." To indicate her sincerity, the girl turned to face the speaker as she stood, and fully intended to flash him a friendly smile before sliding out of the booth...
... until she was staring face-to-face with the last person she wanted to see.
-=-=-
Specs blinked, letting his mind take in all that had just happened. All that he and Dutchy had wanted was the table- just the table, so that Bumlets and Pie Eater could join them for a quick supper. So, with as much politeness as the work-worn newsboy could muster, he rapped his knuckles on the larger table where a single person sat in the corner. It wasn't even as though he had asked her to flat-out leave- as far as he could see, there was nothing wrong with the table that he and Dutchy had been occupying up until that moment.
But then the girl had frozen in her tracks- just froze, terror-filled eyes darting wildly like some cornered animal, and then the chipped mug slid out of her fingers, hitting the table with a clatter of dishes and silverware. He reared back just in time to dodge the spray of steaming coffee that splattered every which way, and at that moment the girl sprang into action. She dove, skittered under the table, and came up on the other side. The impact of their collision- rather, her shoulder thrown hard against his chest- sent him reeling back into Dutchy, and then she broke away, tearing out of the tiny restaurant as if he were the devil himself.
And that wasn't even the strange part. Before he even knew what was going on, Specs was shoved roughly out of the way as Dutchy lunged forward, right at her heels, shouting, "It's her! I tol' yah, Specs!"
And so, really, he had no other option but to follow.
-=-=-
Two-and-a-half blocks later, he was just beginning to think that maybe he'd made the wrong decision after all. The chase was a wild one- dodging carts, ducking between people, darting through trash-littered alleys- and still, it didn't slow its pace the slightest bit. Dutchy settled into a long-striding rhythm, his sights fixed ahead, while Specs toiled several paces behind, losing ground with each passing moment.
The girl had a good lead on them, one that only lengthened as storefronts and tenements flashed by. She herself flickered in and out of sight like some sort of wavering apparition, picking her way through the crowded thoroughfare with an almost inhuman deftness- a creature of shadow and dusky twilight, a phantom of his own imagining, and nothing more. Of course, that idea was about as absurd as it was poetic- after all, in the short moment in which she'd stared them down in Tibby's, the real, human emotion caught in her wide, haunted eyes was nothing he himself could have ever dreamed up.
At length, he drew even with Dutchy, straining to keep pace with his blond selling partner. "Dutch-" he rasped, panting raggedly, "C'mon... give it up... Ain't gonna catch 'er..."
"No!" Dutchy shook his head resolutely, lengthening his strides- a feat which Specs had thought impossible until that moment.
"Dutch-" He broke off sharply, the breath catching in his throat. He stumbled and lost pace, bent double in the middle of the street while a fit of coughing racked through him. When he could stand again- at least, enough to stagger out of the path of traffic- he wasn't surprised in the least to discover that both the girl and Dutchy were gone. With a resigned sigh, he trudged wearily towards the direction they had been running in.
-=-=-
If there was anything the girl hated more than being caught and cornered, she hadn't yet encountered it. There was no question about it: she was most definitely out of her element here, choosing unfamiliar streets at random as she sought to lose the boys who seemed so intent on catching her. As curious as she was concerning their motives, she really wasn't looking forward to any sort of back alleyway interrogation. Lowering her head, she pushed straining muscles to their final limit, ducking between a fruit vendor and his potential customer. She glanced around quickly, trying to choose a direction. But at this pace, there was no time to think, and barely enough time to react. She veered sharply off to the left into an appealing alleyway- and met solid wall closing in on three sides. She cursed bitterly, slamming the flat of her palm against the rough rust-red bricks, frustration blinding her from even the smarting pain she should have felt. She took half a second to collect herself, breathing hard, before turning just in time to find her one escape route suddenly filled with an explosion of noise and sound as the blond-haired boy skidded to a sharp halt in front of her.
/Well/, she thought, putting on a brave face, /I guess I could see what he wants/.
-=-=-
