jabbathehutt | Mist under the East River

Mist under the East River

No one even noticed what happened to the kids on Delancey. Or never talked about it, which amounted to the same thing.

The papers covered the accident that took the life of three construction workers on the Manhattan side of what will eventually become the second East River Bridge. They said digging hit an underground cave they didn't know was there, and the families were compensated widely.

No one talked about the handful of street kids who had taken to using the site as shelter at night. Who had, due to dares and a morbid curiosity, snuck into the site to find - not an underground cave but a secret basement. And this is because no one survived to talk about it afterwards.

Except Ezra Bridger. Who never does talk about it.

In fact, most people have probably forgotten he was even friends with those kids.

Now he sells papes and lives by his wits on the Lower East Side, tries to avoid making any more friends, and keeps himself to himself.

Well, as much as that's possible among the ragged army of New York City newsboys.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ezra meanwhile leans forward, looking down at the brackish waters below them, thinking about the hidden things below them, that he's always been too scared to follow up.

"I try not to think about it too much," he admits.

Spot doesn't quite get that, wouldn't Ezra want to know if there were other people out there like him? But then he's always been searching for a place to belong, so maybe that's why.

He makes a noise of acknowledgement, though, and falls silent, continuing to watch the sky. He should probably leave soon, it won't be long before the sun is setting, but he wants to stay and enjoy the company a little longer.

The thing is, Spot's asking questions that Ezra has never really wanted to ask before, never had a moment outside of figuring out his powers, trying to survive from day to day, trying to stay hidden.

He's never talked about it with anyone because he's never had anyone to talk to about it. And now he finds he wants to talk about - to talk to Spot about it.

But it's too busy around here.

"You ever come out at night?" he asks finally. "Or - when there aren't so many kids around?"

Can we talk in private some time?

Spot's about to just say no when he realises what Ezra's actually asking. He glances sideways at him and frowns thoughtfully for a moment.

"I have to go home in a bit... but maybe I'll feel like a walk after dinner." he says casually - quiet enough that nobody else overhears it. He can almost certainly get away with that since his father's out of town, and he can think of a dozen places he might go 'walking' without being disturbed.

Ezra turns his head part of the way towards him and offers a smile. That probably works.

Except he still doesn't know where Spot's giant mansion or whatever is.

"Same place as before?"

"You know the park a couple of streets from there?" he says after a moment's thought. He knew a couple of places where they could sit and talk without really being disturbed, by newsies or anyone else, and it's not too far from the Hearst mansion, either.

Ezra nods.

"I know it."

Some of the Manahattan boys are pulling themselves out of the river now, talking about getting back to the lodging house for supper. Ezra watches them for a second, and then nods to Spot, standing up. It's an easy excuse - he doesn't eat at the same place, but he knows a few bakeries that will be closing up soon and that's usually good for food.

"See you later, I guess?"

He nods to Spot before headingg off, leaving the Brooklyn kid with plenty of time to go back to his place without looking like he's leaving with anyone.

But when he's been and got himself something he heads to the park after dark, day old bagel in hand, which predictably he ends up sharing with a curious squirrel.

"Yea, see you." he nods easily, waving the Manhattan kids goodbye as they head off. He stays a little longer before telling his boys he needs to go himself, taking the scenic route back home just because he can.

As long as he's there and dressed for dinner nobody's going to make any comments that his father might catch wind of, so he sneaks in his usual way and changes. He actually enjoys dinner, for once (despite his ever-present guilt at the quality of his food compared to everything any of his friends get) because his father isn't there to lecture him through it, and then afterwards he tells the staff he's going for a walk - a perfectly ordinary thing for a young man to do, as long as he's not back too late.

He doesn't realise until he's about halfway to the park that he didn't change back into his newsie clothes, but he decides in the end that since Ezra already knows and he's more likely to run into somebody who recognises Sean Hearst than somebody who recognises Spot Conlon, he'll just leave it.

Which is why he arrives at the park in an expensive (and perfectly tailored) grey wool suit and pristine white shirt - though without his father around to insist on absolutely proper dress, and in deference to the warmth of the evening, he's left off the suit jacket in favour of just waistcoat and shirt, the sleeves of which are rolled up. He's also abandoned his tie.

Ezra is sitting sideways on a bench, his back against the arm rest, his legs crossed up in front of him, concentrating on feeding the squirrel rather than thinking about hos nervous he is. In hindsight, talking to someone about the whole thing seems like a really bad idea, especially someone who has been lying about himself so thoroughly.

At least, he guesses, Spot can keep a secret. And he didn't run when he found out what Ezra could do.

He looks up when he notices someone approaching, and the squirrel scarpers. It's a few seconds of staring defiantly before Ezra recognises Spot, and then he feels like an idiot.

"Hey."

Spot feels tension creep into his shoulders when Ezra looks up at him and stares like that, and he wonders if maybe he should have changed after all. His hands are tucked into his pockets and he clenches them slightly, nervously, wondering what to say.

But then it seems to pass and Spot just isn't sure what that was all about, so he decides to ignore it unless Ezra says anything and gives him a nod.

"Hey."

Ezra doesn't say anything at all about the outfit, not now he's recognised Spot. Instead he returns the nod, and glances at the bench next to himself. It's not an invitation as much as an assumption.

"Hey," he says, then wonders what to say next.

"You have any problems getting out?"

He drops onto the seat beside Ezra, lounging comfortably and glancing out across the park. He shakes his head at the question.

"No, my father's away on business so I just said I was going for a walk, it's not that out of the ordinary so it wasn't a problem."

He hesitates, equally uncertain where to go, they have the chance to talk away from prying ears only now he doesn't know what to say.

It's just weird. 'My father's away on business.' What does that even mean? Even when Ezra had parents, they never 'went away on business,' unless you counted the tenement next door.

"What does he do, your father?" Ezra asks, going for small talk but also because he's interested. He's never even met someone as well off as Spot.

Spot blinks at him in surprise, and the words 'don't you know?' threatened to spill from his lips before he stops himself - as ubiquitous as his father's name was, particularly amongst newsies, he realises most of them wouldn't actually recognise him on sight, none of them would have really met him before, or any of the paper moguls.

"He's... uh... he's William Randolph Hearst." He assumes Ezra, like himself and most of the other Manhattan boys he's familiar with, sells more often for the World than the Journal, but he figures he'll probably still recognise the name.

There's a long pause, and Ezra stares at Spot with the exact level of surprise.

He would never have guessed that.

"...Oh." he says finally. "I didn't recognise him."

For exactly the reasons Spot had guessed.

Ah, yes, there it is. He thought Ezra must have already gone through this revelation, but he realises now he was an idiot for assuming it, so he waits patiently for it to sink in.

"Yea..." he says slowly "I guess you've probably never seen him before..."

He shrugs, a little awkwardly - it is what it is.

Ezra shakes his head. It's not too awkward from his point of view; Hearst is as distant a figure to him as Pulitzer, Teddy Roosevelt, Van Wyck, or anyone else. He knows the name, which means Spot is really rich, but he already knew he was.

"Guess he goes on business trips a lot..."

Though honestly? Ezra has still no more idea of what they involve than he did a minute ago.

"He owns things elsewhere, sometimes he has to go and see to them," he explains. He's been on at least two trips since the encounter with Ezra, which is more frequent than usual, but Spot assumes there's something going on that his father hasn't told him, which happens often enough he isn't suspicious.

"He's a busy man in general," he admits.

That still means nothing to Ezra, but 'he's a busy man' is something he understands.

"Sounds like that's better than him being at home with you," he says, semi-idly, not looking at Spot.

Spot tenses slightly, for just a moment before he forces himself to relax, and then he nods.

"In a lot of ways, yes it is." He agrees "much better."

Not least because it meant he could spend more time with the newsies.

Ezra looks away, ducking his head slightly, trying to ignore the tension and apologise for it at the same time.

If there was a way he could help that situation, he probaby would, but he doesn't know where to start, like so much of this.

He's quiet for a minute, trying to remember what he wanted to say that meant meeting in private, and how to bring that up.

Spot falls silent as well, wondering if Ezra will say anything - he was the one who suggested this meeting, so he wonders if it was for a purpose, or if it was just so they could talk without worrying about either of their secrets. When Ezra isn't forthcoming, he searches for something to say himself.

"I guess you probably don't have to worry as much about your secret getting out, unless it's not as easy to hide as it seems?"

Ezra shakes his head, still looking down at the path running through the park.It's not that hard, except:

"As long as I fight the urge to do that mind trick thing on random assholes in the street. Then someone might see."

Spot snorts slightly.

"Yea, but that someone might be kind of grateful you did." he points out, giving Ezra a light nudge with his shoulder. He is grateful, still, because everything had been about to come tumbling down for him before Ezra showed up.

"That's not why I did it," Ezra says. "I mean, you don't owe me nothing."

He's pretty sure that Spot knows that - that he shouldn't feel obliged to hang out with Ezra after hours when he might get in trouble, that he doens't have to keep the favour he promised.

"But it's kinda nice to talk to someone about it. I ain't spoken about any of it before."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject