Ezra Bridger (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jabbathehutt) wrote2021-05-17 08:40 am
jabbathehutt) wrote2021-05-17 08:40 am
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.
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.
no subject
Not that he's going to stress Spot out with that. It's enough the Spot is helping him, he doesn't need to have the burden of all of Ezra's problems.
So instead he nods, belatedly gives a sideways smile.
"Kinda exciting, though, right? Like we could wirte for the papes instead of selling them."
no subject
Spot grins a little at that, nodding.
"I guess it is a little like being a reporter," he agrees - and there's a light in his eyes at the idea that he can't entirely hide, despite obviously trying to keep his tone casual.
The thing is, he'd love to be a reporter, but of course that's not a suitable job at all according to his father - you own the paper, you don't write for it. He doesn't know why that's the way it works, but it's not as though his father is the type to welcome questions.
"So let's go get the story." he smirks.
no subject
And that's infectious - it does seem exciting. If he looks past why they're doing it and just focuses on the potential thrill of breaking into the offices, it could be almost fun. Ezra smirks wider and nods, adjusting the cap on his head.
"Okay," he agrees. "I guess I'll see you there."
no subject
Spot is quite good at keeping cool, but he also doesn't usually let people get that close to him, not like this, so it's usually easier to avoid conversations that might reveal the less cool parts of himself. Like how much he likes to write.
He's pleased that Ezra seems to be in agreement, at least.
"I'll see you there." he nods.
no subject
He shifts extra papes the next few days as well, putting aside a nickel or so, so that when Wednesday rolls around he can get most of his stack shifted nice and early.
And then at nine o'clock, he slinkns off to the Journal building, looking forward as much to seeing Spot as to actually succeeding in their task.