Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies.want to do something about it?
My shirt is soaking wet. Of course, it's not water wet, it was the 'if you're so drunk you can't hold your drink, stay away from me.oh lovely. Now your drink's on my shirt.NO! Of course you can't have it!' wet. The cheep beer Skittery was drinking kinda starts smelling funny after a while, needless to say I minded. But not too much. After all, it was better than the beer shampoo I got the last time he was like this.
As it was Skittery's fault that my shirt was a mess, I had no qualms about taking one of his to change into. I didn't have another clean undershirt, but I really didn't want to smell like beer with Skittery as drunk as he was, so I ignored that little detail.
While I was stripping off my undershirt Jack came into the bunkroom. My back was to the door, and I had a shirt wrapped around my head, so I didn't notice him at first. But I did when he gasped.
I got the shirt off from around my neck and turned to face him.
"Whadda you want Jack?"
No answer.
"Jack?"
Silence.
"Hello in there?"
Finally, an answer.
"Your back." He said, shocked at what he saw.
"I have one. Don't everybody?" Now, I thought that answer would let him know I didn't care to talk about the scars on my back. They didn't bother me; I am completely over any mental or emotional stress the ever placed on me. And heck, I like my demons to stay buried.
"What happened?"
I looked at him. How could he be so stupid sometimes? Well, not so much stupid as much as just having a talent of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Of course, he never says the wrong thing in front of a crowd, but when it's one on one he just doesn't know when to not say anything.
"Race?"
"Eh?" Stupid kid. Great, but stupid.
"You wanna talk about it?" He looked concerned. And sympathetic. I hate that.
"Not really. There's nothing much to tell anyway." I turned to walk away, but that look he was giving me was getting me annoyed. "Why don't you just go ask Blink how he lost his eye? Or ask Spot where he got his cane?" I was getting angry. What right did he have to pry, anyway?
One glance at Jack's face and I realized I had gone too far. After all, he meant well.
"Or why don't you ask Snipeshooter why he's always stealing my cigars?" I asked, while I put on Skittery's shirt. I smiled to let him know that I wasn't mad at him.
I just hope he's not stuck in one of those moods where he has to offer you a shoulder to cry on. Or shove it in your face even when you don't feel like crying. But I suppose he means well.
Jack laughs and walks past me toward the door. Maybe he's smarter than I give him credit for.
Before he leaves he turns around again and, with that same concerned look on his face, asks me, "You know you can tell me anything, anytime you want, don't you Race?"
I take it back. He's an idiot.
"Yeah, yeah, Jack. I know." I say as I finish buttoning my shirt.
I followed Jack back downstairs and arrived just in time to see Skittery kiss poor Mush on the mouth. And call him Rosey. And pass out.
We all just move Skittery out of the way a little; this has all happened before. He loses his girl and then gets very drunk, which seems to solve all his problems. He'll get a new one in a couple days anyway. Mush, now him I feel sorry for, but I'm glad it wasn't me this time. I'm shorter than most, so Skittery, drunk as he is, usually takes me for a girl. He ends up with a couple bruises to remind him I'm not, but it isn't a pleasant experience.
I hate to be the one to admit it, but Mush looks pretty funny there standing in shock. Kinda like a fish.
For the rest of the evening I find myself deeply involved in a poker game. Jack, on the other hand, just sits there, sending me what I think are supposed to be deep, meaningful looks.
After a about an hour I can't stand anymore of it. I stand up, declare my part in the game over, and take my winnings. Which weren't as much as I usually got. After all, it's kinda hard to concentrate when a guy keeps staring at you. It's creepy.
I walk over toward Jack and sit down next to him. He's still giving me that look.
"So Jack." I start.
Man, that look is making me nervous. Does he never blink?
"If you really want to know what happened, I'll tell you."
AN: HURAH! The prologue is done! I'll get the next part up as soon as I can Review please!
My shirt is soaking wet. Of course, it's not water wet, it was the 'if you're so drunk you can't hold your drink, stay away from me.oh lovely. Now your drink's on my shirt.NO! Of course you can't have it!' wet. The cheep beer Skittery was drinking kinda starts smelling funny after a while, needless to say I minded. But not too much. After all, it was better than the beer shampoo I got the last time he was like this.
As it was Skittery's fault that my shirt was a mess, I had no qualms about taking one of his to change into. I didn't have another clean undershirt, but I really didn't want to smell like beer with Skittery as drunk as he was, so I ignored that little detail.
While I was stripping off my undershirt Jack came into the bunkroom. My back was to the door, and I had a shirt wrapped around my head, so I didn't notice him at first. But I did when he gasped.
I got the shirt off from around my neck and turned to face him.
"Whadda you want Jack?"
No answer.
"Jack?"
Silence.
"Hello in there?"
Finally, an answer.
"Your back." He said, shocked at what he saw.
"I have one. Don't everybody?" Now, I thought that answer would let him know I didn't care to talk about the scars on my back. They didn't bother me; I am completely over any mental or emotional stress the ever placed on me. And heck, I like my demons to stay buried.
"What happened?"
I looked at him. How could he be so stupid sometimes? Well, not so much stupid as much as just having a talent of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Of course, he never says the wrong thing in front of a crowd, but when it's one on one he just doesn't know when to not say anything.
"Race?"
"Eh?" Stupid kid. Great, but stupid.
"You wanna talk about it?" He looked concerned. And sympathetic. I hate that.
"Not really. There's nothing much to tell anyway." I turned to walk away, but that look he was giving me was getting me annoyed. "Why don't you just go ask Blink how he lost his eye? Or ask Spot where he got his cane?" I was getting angry. What right did he have to pry, anyway?
One glance at Jack's face and I realized I had gone too far. After all, he meant well.
"Or why don't you ask Snipeshooter why he's always stealing my cigars?" I asked, while I put on Skittery's shirt. I smiled to let him know that I wasn't mad at him.
I just hope he's not stuck in one of those moods where he has to offer you a shoulder to cry on. Or shove it in your face even when you don't feel like crying. But I suppose he means well.
Jack laughs and walks past me toward the door. Maybe he's smarter than I give him credit for.
Before he leaves he turns around again and, with that same concerned look on his face, asks me, "You know you can tell me anything, anytime you want, don't you Race?"
I take it back. He's an idiot.
"Yeah, yeah, Jack. I know." I say as I finish buttoning my shirt.
I followed Jack back downstairs and arrived just in time to see Skittery kiss poor Mush on the mouth. And call him Rosey. And pass out.
We all just move Skittery out of the way a little; this has all happened before. He loses his girl and then gets very drunk, which seems to solve all his problems. He'll get a new one in a couple days anyway. Mush, now him I feel sorry for, but I'm glad it wasn't me this time. I'm shorter than most, so Skittery, drunk as he is, usually takes me for a girl. He ends up with a couple bruises to remind him I'm not, but it isn't a pleasant experience.
I hate to be the one to admit it, but Mush looks pretty funny there standing in shock. Kinda like a fish.
For the rest of the evening I find myself deeply involved in a poker game. Jack, on the other hand, just sits there, sending me what I think are supposed to be deep, meaningful looks.
After a about an hour I can't stand anymore of it. I stand up, declare my part in the game over, and take my winnings. Which weren't as much as I usually got. After all, it's kinda hard to concentrate when a guy keeps staring at you. It's creepy.
I walk over toward Jack and sit down next to him. He's still giving me that look.
"So Jack." I start.
Man, that look is making me nervous. Does he never blink?
"If you really want to know what happened, I'll tell you."
AN: HURAH! The prologue is done! I'll get the next part up as soon as I can Review please!