Fallen Angel
The girl blinked, unbelieving. "You're breaking up with me?"
Dammit, he had hoped this one wouldn't cry. They always cried. He released a sharp breath through his teeth and looked out over the railing. He didn't speak; words weren't needed.
She sighed shudderingly and turned away. "I guess I'll say good-bye now."
Still he remained silent.
She stifled a sob and pulled her coat tighter around her body.
He stayed at rest; calm and collected as he flicked the remains of his cigarette into the inky blackness below.
~*~*~*~*~
Spot looked up into the bright sun, enjoying the warmth that roamed over his aching muscles. A high-pitched voice came from behind him.
"Spot!"
Spot turned slowly, easily maintaining his regal air as he looked down upon his visitor. A small child stood, hunched over, catching his breath, in front of him. The child looked up suddenly and hurriedly gulped one last breath before announcing his news.
"Cowboy wanted me ta ast if youse was still comin' to da party tanite." He gasped, bouncing from foot to foot.
Spot sneered and shook his head. /It's /my /damn boithday, 'a 'coise I'se still comin'./ He dragged his gaze to meet the child's again.
The young boy shuddered involuntarily and awaited the response. He nodded swiftly. "Yeah, I'se comin'."
The boy bobbed his head quickly and turned tail, taking off for Manhattan. Jackrabbit was the child's name, if he recalled correctly. The information was useless to him now, Spot realized, and he dismissed the thought.
~*~*~*~*~
Spot grabbed his hat off of his bedpost and adjusted his suspenders one last time. He caught sight of his reflection in the cracked glass on his way out of the room and backed up again. His icy eyes were calm, his smirk cocky. Smiling in satisfaction, he left the Lodging House.
He sighed loudly, digging his hands further into his pockets and slouching down in his seat. The trolley rumbled on, clanging its bell every now and then to warn passers by of its rapid approach. When his stop finally came, Spot hopped down the steps smoothly, immediately meeting up with some familiar faces. A chorus of "Heya Spot" echoed around the street and rang loudly in his ears. "Hiya fellas." He grinned and allowed himself to be led to the party. He could only hope it would lighten his mood.
~*~*~*~*~
People were dancing, Medda was singing, and everyone was laughing: except for one. Jack appeared and thrust his greasy face into Spot's. He grinned widely, and Spot could smell the alcohol on his breath. He wrinkled his nose and tried to smile. "Whassamattah, Spot?" Jack asked sluggishly.
Spot attempted a larger smile, hoping he could fool his friend. "Youse look like ya ain't havin' any..." His alcohol-influenced brain struggled to think of the word. "Fun." He draped one arm around Spot's narrow shoulders and gestured grandly with the other one.
Spot followed his arm and once again took in the sights of his so-called birthday party. He grimaced. Jack saw people having fun, but all Spot saw were people getting drunk, making fools of themselves, and practically having sex in the aisles.
Jack turned back to his friend. "C'mon, Spot! Grab a lady, grab a glass!" A heavily caked showgirl sauntered up to Jack and grabbed his arm, giggling. Jack waggled his eyebrows at his friend and took off, chugging another beer along the way.
A timid, yet easily as decorated young showgirl stepped from the shadows and advanced towards Spot. "Can I...do something for ya, mister?" She asked awkwardly, her hands trembling.
Spot rolled his eyes and turned away, shaking his head. "No, but thanks anyways."
The girl crept closer and bent down near his ear. "Sure." She sat next to him and fidgeted for a few minutes before speaking again. "I'm new at this." She blurted, looking at his profile.
He raised an eyebrow, trying to feign interest. "Oh, well, ya doin' a real nice job." He said as sincerely as he could.
The girl smile, her teeth appearing yellow in contrast to her red lips. "Thanks..." She paused, pressed her lips together and held out a hand. "My name's Chloe."
Spot shook her hand, his upper lip curling slightly, but his eyes showing interest. "Do youse /like/ livin' like dis?" He asked frankly, not even realizing he had been thinking it until it was too late.
Chloe looked taken aback. Her hand flew to her hair selfconciously. She patted it nervously, then sighed and returned her hands to her lap. "No." She admitted quietly.
"Den why?" Spot turned to her and finally made eye contact.
She shrugged. "For da money..." She lifted her eyes to the girl sitting with Jack on the opposite side of the room. "Family tradition..." She muttered softly.
Spot's eyes softened the tiniest bit. "Yeah...dat sucks." He said awkwardly, unsure of how to offer comfort to her.
She smiled and turned back to him. "Enough about me, what about you?"
Spot hesitated, when given the chance, he could talk about himself for hours on end, but he wasn't feeling up to it at the moment. "Dere's not much to say—" He began.
"Are ya a newsboy?" She interrupted.
Spot's temper flared, he wasn't used to being interrupted. /I'll letcha by dis time, goil, but next time...don't think I won't hitcha jus' 'cause youse is a goil./ He took a deep breath and nodded, exhaling heavily.
"So, enjoyin' the party?"
Spot smirked. "Yeah, can'tcha tell?" He scoffed, shifting to a more comfortable position in his seat.
Chloe smiled again. "Whose party is it?" She asked, looking around for the host. "I had meant to ask earlier, but I forgot..."
Spot scowled bitterly and crossed his arms. "Actually, it's mine."
Chloe's head swiveled around, startled. "Yours?!" She asked, unbelieving.
Spot nodded sharply. "Surprise." He muttered.
"Oh...well, why ain'tcha out dere?" She asked, throwing a hand up in gesture.
He glared at her for a second before answering. "You're serious, ain'tcha." It wasn't a question.
She stared at him, doe-eyed and innocent. "If you wanna leave...just go." She suggested softly, her eyes boring into his.
Spot blinked for a second, taking this in. He hadn't thought of that. He cleared his throat and decided to take her up on her advice. He stood and grabbed his hat again. He nodded to her pointedly, stepping past her and out nearer to the stairs. He paused before descending. He put his hat firmly on his head and turned. "Thanks." He gave her a small smile and left.
The girl blinked, unbelieving. "You're breaking up with me?"
Dammit, he had hoped this one wouldn't cry. They always cried. He released a sharp breath through his teeth and looked out over the railing. He didn't speak; words weren't needed.
She sighed shudderingly and turned away. "I guess I'll say good-bye now."
Still he remained silent.
She stifled a sob and pulled her coat tighter around her body.
He stayed at rest; calm and collected as he flicked the remains of his cigarette into the inky blackness below.
~*~*~*~*~
Spot looked up into the bright sun, enjoying the warmth that roamed over his aching muscles. A high-pitched voice came from behind him.
"Spot!"
Spot turned slowly, easily maintaining his regal air as he looked down upon his visitor. A small child stood, hunched over, catching his breath, in front of him. The child looked up suddenly and hurriedly gulped one last breath before announcing his news.
"Cowboy wanted me ta ast if youse was still comin' to da party tanite." He gasped, bouncing from foot to foot.
Spot sneered and shook his head. /It's /my /damn boithday, 'a 'coise I'se still comin'./ He dragged his gaze to meet the child's again.
The young boy shuddered involuntarily and awaited the response. He nodded swiftly. "Yeah, I'se comin'."
The boy bobbed his head quickly and turned tail, taking off for Manhattan. Jackrabbit was the child's name, if he recalled correctly. The information was useless to him now, Spot realized, and he dismissed the thought.
~*~*~*~*~
Spot grabbed his hat off of his bedpost and adjusted his suspenders one last time. He caught sight of his reflection in the cracked glass on his way out of the room and backed up again. His icy eyes were calm, his smirk cocky. Smiling in satisfaction, he left the Lodging House.
He sighed loudly, digging his hands further into his pockets and slouching down in his seat. The trolley rumbled on, clanging its bell every now and then to warn passers by of its rapid approach. When his stop finally came, Spot hopped down the steps smoothly, immediately meeting up with some familiar faces. A chorus of "Heya Spot" echoed around the street and rang loudly in his ears. "Hiya fellas." He grinned and allowed himself to be led to the party. He could only hope it would lighten his mood.
~*~*~*~*~
People were dancing, Medda was singing, and everyone was laughing: except for one. Jack appeared and thrust his greasy face into Spot's. He grinned widely, and Spot could smell the alcohol on his breath. He wrinkled his nose and tried to smile. "Whassamattah, Spot?" Jack asked sluggishly.
Spot attempted a larger smile, hoping he could fool his friend. "Youse look like ya ain't havin' any..." His alcohol-influenced brain struggled to think of the word. "Fun." He draped one arm around Spot's narrow shoulders and gestured grandly with the other one.
Spot followed his arm and once again took in the sights of his so-called birthday party. He grimaced. Jack saw people having fun, but all Spot saw were people getting drunk, making fools of themselves, and practically having sex in the aisles.
Jack turned back to his friend. "C'mon, Spot! Grab a lady, grab a glass!" A heavily caked showgirl sauntered up to Jack and grabbed his arm, giggling. Jack waggled his eyebrows at his friend and took off, chugging another beer along the way.
A timid, yet easily as decorated young showgirl stepped from the shadows and advanced towards Spot. "Can I...do something for ya, mister?" She asked awkwardly, her hands trembling.
Spot rolled his eyes and turned away, shaking his head. "No, but thanks anyways."
The girl crept closer and bent down near his ear. "Sure." She sat next to him and fidgeted for a few minutes before speaking again. "I'm new at this." She blurted, looking at his profile.
He raised an eyebrow, trying to feign interest. "Oh, well, ya doin' a real nice job." He said as sincerely as he could.
The girl smile, her teeth appearing yellow in contrast to her red lips. "Thanks..." She paused, pressed her lips together and held out a hand. "My name's Chloe."
Spot shook her hand, his upper lip curling slightly, but his eyes showing interest. "Do youse /like/ livin' like dis?" He asked frankly, not even realizing he had been thinking it until it was too late.
Chloe looked taken aback. Her hand flew to her hair selfconciously. She patted it nervously, then sighed and returned her hands to her lap. "No." She admitted quietly.
"Den why?" Spot turned to her and finally made eye contact.
She shrugged. "For da money..." She lifted her eyes to the girl sitting with Jack on the opposite side of the room. "Family tradition..." She muttered softly.
Spot's eyes softened the tiniest bit. "Yeah...dat sucks." He said awkwardly, unsure of how to offer comfort to her.
She smiled and turned back to him. "Enough about me, what about you?"
Spot hesitated, when given the chance, he could talk about himself for hours on end, but he wasn't feeling up to it at the moment. "Dere's not much to say—" He began.
"Are ya a newsboy?" She interrupted.
Spot's temper flared, he wasn't used to being interrupted. /I'll letcha by dis time, goil, but next time...don't think I won't hitcha jus' 'cause youse is a goil./ He took a deep breath and nodded, exhaling heavily.
"So, enjoyin' the party?"
Spot smirked. "Yeah, can'tcha tell?" He scoffed, shifting to a more comfortable position in his seat.
Chloe smiled again. "Whose party is it?" She asked, looking around for the host. "I had meant to ask earlier, but I forgot..."
Spot scowled bitterly and crossed his arms. "Actually, it's mine."
Chloe's head swiveled around, startled. "Yours?!" She asked, unbelieving.
Spot nodded sharply. "Surprise." He muttered.
"Oh...well, why ain'tcha out dere?" She asked, throwing a hand up in gesture.
He glared at her for a second before answering. "You're serious, ain'tcha." It wasn't a question.
She stared at him, doe-eyed and innocent. "If you wanna leave...just go." She suggested softly, her eyes boring into his.
Spot blinked for a second, taking this in. He hadn't thought of that. He cleared his throat and decided to take her up on her advice. He stood and grabbed his hat again. He nodded to her pointedly, stepping past her and out nearer to the stairs. He paused before descending. He put his hat firmly on his head and turned. "Thanks." He gave her a small smile and left.