(Edit: I'm getting rid of all my earlier commentary, not because it doesn't hold a special place in my heart [I have the original version, commentary and all saved somewhere on google docs] but because it makes the chapter hard to find. Apparently, when I made these, I didn't know about divider bars. *shrugs*) I promise to actually edit the content later. Candide is another character who seems a tad off the charts into Mary Sue land.
Edit number 2: So I've been really involved in the social justice world on tumblr, lately. And it has come to my attention that I used an incredibly offensive ethnic slur ("gypsy") to describe Candide. While it is true that I was ignorant of the damage this word might have caused, that's no effing excuse. I've gone through and changed it, along with some other characteristics about her that fed into the general (and offensive) stereotype that surround Roma/Romani peoples. If you're interested in learning more, check out golden-zephyr(dot)tumblr(dot)com/views. She has changed my world, I hope she can change yours.
On another note, this particular chapter is nowhere near done being edited. I just wanted to take out the offensive, bigoted language that I used.
"Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Pulitzer's favorite snack revealed; Rattails!" Emma yelled, her strong voice snaking through the crowd of sensible people who passed her bye, catching the attention of three of four dim looking men.
"Thank you, Thank you sir!"
Emma tipped Blink's cap, respectfully.
"Pulled that headline out of thin air, didn't ya, water rat?" said a familiar Harlem accent. Emma turned to see a short girl with dark skin and long black hair that hung loose and messy around her shoulders.
"Candide!" Emma said. "It's your muse, worthless thing's been following me around! Next thing I know, it'll be demanding I split my take with it!"
"My muse," Candide said, loftily. "Would never stoop to your level!"
"No, you're right," Emma sighed. "It'd demand all of my money!" The two girls laughed together, too happy to see each other to bother noticing how bad their jokes were.
Candide was a sometimes-newsie. She sold papes one day, and the next she'd help out around Medda's theater. She even shined the occasional shoe.
"I get restless doing the same thing for too long," she had explained once to Emma.
"Busy?" Candide asked, gesturing towards the shops whose menus were posted in chalk on the little slate boards hanging from the windows. Emma glanced down at the few newspapers she had left.
"Not if you're paying," she decided.
"Done!" Candide agreed, leading her companion into the closest shop.
"Made some easy money, then?" Emma asked.
"One of these days," Candide said, shaking her head, "they'll learn not to play drinking games with me."
"The same day," Emma agreed, "that they catch the bartender watering down your shots!".
Candide, in addition to doing everything, knew everything. Emma had known the shrewd girl for a little over a year, and still couldn't figure out quite how she did it.
Emma's suspicions lead her to believe that Candide had assembled an army of squirrel spies who were unwaveringly loyal to her. After learning their complicated language of squeaks and tail-waves, Candide had spread them across the whole of New York. They reported to her constantly, telling the girl what the unsuspecting people of the city had not thought to hide from a passing squirrel.
Unfortunately, Emma had very limited luck in convincing anyone of this truth, only Blink had seen the truth of her words, and kept away from the passing squirrels. Her theories were generally dismissed as being a little, well, nutty. And so the lodging house continued to speculate and weave their tangled theories.
You could call Candide an interfering busybody, Emma supposed, but then, she'd probably hear about it. So you didn't, because she knew your secrets.
"So what's the news?" Emma asked, once her food had arrived.
"Well, Scamp and Mush are quits. You could hear the screaming half a block away, but neither one of em looks beat on or dammaged."
Swallowing a large bite, Emma nodded. "That would explain his trigger finger this morning, he's usually a happy newsie…"
Candide nodded.
"Cowboy Jack is still head over heels for Sarah." Candide made a face, prompting Emma to chime in with; "More's the pity!" before scarfing down a roll.
"And I suspect" Candide paused, clearly of the opinion that her suspicions were more factual then most coppers police reports. "I suspect, that Davey's sweet on someone. I think it's one of the lodging boys but I can't figure out which one." Her face darkened for a moment at this intolerable injustice.
"Set your squirrels on him." Emma muttered around a large bite of her sandwich, which muffled her words.
"Hmmm?" she asked, absently, still wrapped up in her little mystery.
"Nothing" Emma covered. "Go on."
"Kid Blink" she listed, ticking off names on her fingers "is…" she grinned wickedly "Well, he's Blink." She said simply. Emma waggled her eyebrows, amused. Blink's romantic nature hardly needed to be deciphered.
"Any news from old man Brooklyn?" Emma wondered.
"Conlon hasn't changed in the least!" Candide huffed, "The idiot can't even function, he's so busy looking tough and being in charge. Ugh."
Emma smiled conspiratorially to her sandwich.
As Candide continued with the long list of intrigues, romances, catastrophes, and other vital information, Emma devoured the sandwich, three rolls, a tall glass of lemonade, and a plate heaped full of potato wedges.
When the news and food had been thoroughly exhausted, the two affectionately parted ways. Candide was off to Brooklyn in an attempt, or so Emma thought, to draft the pidgins for her gossip collecting army. Emma made her way towards the bank, where the wealthy businessmen would soon make a profitable exodus from the building and towards the shops as lunchtime descended.