newsies!! o/o (closed)

Riff snorted, pulling to a stop. "You wait here, I'll be right back." She slipped her bat out and handed it to Sprints, figuring it might be a nice comfort for him, and then disappeared into a throng of fishermen.

(wait, did riff take her bat with her or give it to sprints?)

((She handed him the bat lmao I'll fix that))

(okay thanks lol)

Sprints clutched the bat in her hands as Riff ran off into the fisherman, confused as ever. Where is she going? “Riff?” he asked, voice quiet. Suddenly, he felt very vulnerable in the crowd. He was in Brooklyn, with only a bat. Anything could happen…

Riff came back not even two minutes later, a jacket in hand and a grin on her face. "Here. Trade ya?" She said, motioning to her bat as she held the jacket out to Sprints. She probably could have just explained where she was going, but that thought hadn't really crossed her mind.

(hiya! this is em on a new account)

Sprints quirked an eyebrow, but traded her nonetheless. The jacket was soft to the touch, and had obviously seen it’s fair share. He shrugged it on, and a smile slipped on his face on how warm it was.

“Ya know, I’se not even gonna ask how you’se got this. But thanks, doll.” Sprints playfully punched her shoulder.

"Hey, e'ryone's gotta have a few secrets, right?" Riff joked, flicking his forehead in return. "Now that I ain't gotta worry 'bout you freezin' t' death, let's keep goin'."

((Squelcome back!))

(thanks!)

“I’s wasn’t that cold,” Sprints muttered, a small smile still on his face as he followed behind Riff. Getting the jacket for him was a really nice gesture, something he didn’t expect from someone he just met. But it was mighty appreciated, as he outgrew his last one a couple years back.

"You's was shiverin' an' everythin'." Riff said, gesturing widely and dramatically with a grin. She shot a wink over her shoulder before turning back forward as she navigated easily through the bustling fishermen and alleyways.

Sprints huffed, but smiled nonetheless. He liked Riff’s energy; it was just like the Hattan boys’, teasing and fun. Sprints was jolted out of his thinking when he was bumped into roughly.

“Watch it kid!” a rough voice said. An apology slipped out of his mouth as he tried to keep up.

Riff slowed her pace just enough to fall back into place next to Sprints, shouting a not-so-nice string of words in response to the sailor that had bumped into him. Once he was out of sight, she wrinkled her nose, nudging the newsie next to her. "Ya don' wanna apologize down here. Not without real good reason."

“But I’s-“ Sprints shook his head and took a deep breath. “Okay,” He knew that each city had its own set of traditions or ordeals, but keeping track of them all made his head hurt. It was better to be nice all the time and hope for the best. “We near Brooklyn?”

"Uh huh." Riff nodded, her eyes scanning the passerby and alleyways with an oddly sharp gaze, one that made it obvious not much got past her. After a moment, she tapped Sprints' shoulder to let him know she was changing direction, and turned down another street, onto the street that lined the water and attached the docks to land.

Sprints followed Riff, not bothering to memorize where they went. He trusted RIff enough not to kidnap him for some illegal experiment. As he watched Riff, he compared her gaze to a cats. Always watching, tense, and ready to strike.

As Riff led Sprints through the bustle of workers, fishermen, and people wishing sailors a safe journey, a grin suddenly lit up her face. She reached out, popping none other than Spot Conlon on the back of the head as she passed him, snickering.

“Wait, ain’t that Spottie?” he asked, peering back over his shoulder. If what she said about her and Spot being like brother and sister was true, then it was perfectly fine that she hit him. If not? Well, running was one of Sprints’ strengths anyways.

Whatever she'd been about to say in answer was cut off suddenly as her hat was lifted from her head, and then used to swat her once. "If you're goin'ta hit a fella, at least have a bit o' pride abou' it. This that 'attan boy?"

“I’s guess Spot does have eyes everywhere, since you’se the only Brooklyn newsie I’s met yet,” Sprints playfully bumped his shoulder against Riff’s, then switched his gaze to Spot’s. “I’s Sprints.”

"Spot, but I'd be willin' t' bet ya knew that." Spot said, giving Sprints a nod, though his eyes flickered between Riff and the Manhattan newsie. "Some news you's is bringin', for sure."

“And I’s rather share it inside. I’s come to knows that the walls have ears,” Sprints said, lowering his voice. If everyone knew what was going on, then it would be safe to say there’d be a collection of angry newsies. And a collection of angry newsies was never good for the group in trouble.

"Carpe Diem." Riff said, snapping her fingers. At Spot's look, she motioned to the ships docked along the wharf. "'S a small fishin' boat. I happen t' know the owner, and he ain't out till next week. Boat's all yours t' chat."

“That’s good wit me,” Sprints nodded, waiting for Spot’s agreement. He had never been on a boat before, and he really hoped he wasn’t seasick. Puking in front of Brooklyn’s leader was not on his to do list.

(hey, weird question, but do you ship sprace? and if is, do you want to maybe incorporate that into the story?)

((Tbh, I was only vaguely aware of that ship, but hells yeah))

"Tha's our Riff-Raff, always there t' save the day." Spot said with a grin, reaching out to punch Riff's shoulder.

"Somebody's gotta, y'all can' do it yourselves." Riff shot back, nudging Sprints' shoulder with her own to let him know to keep up as she moved past Spot. One second, her hat was in his hand, and the next, it was on her head, with Spot looking slightly confused as he followed her.

(okay! i watched the newsies musical put on by our local theatre group, so now i’m newly resubmerged in the fandom lol)

Sprints followed Spot and Riff, slightly behind but still keeping up pretty well. He caught the movement of her stealing her hat back, a small smile slipping on his face. Making a reminder in his head about Riff’s quick fingers, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, rubbing a penny between his fingers.

"Stealin' ain't very lady-like." Spot said, making a face as he nudged Riff.
"You stole first, I'm jus' followin' your example." Riff shot back, elbowing him gently. "Anyways, boat's just up this-a-way. Keep ya away from pryin' ears."

Sprints nodded, and started to whistle a tune he heard on the radio. Observing the people around him, he fell into thought. Riff and Spot sure are like brother and sister. They reminded him of when he and Race were little, just eight or nine years old.

It didn't take more than two minutes for Riff to turn, confidently slipping along a dock before stopping. She gestured to a small fishing vessel, the words Carpe Diem painted in flowery and faded blue paint on the side. "Here she is."

Sprints looked at the boat swaying slightly in the water, a mixed expression on his face. He had never actually seen a boat before, only in the papes. “So we’s just climb up on ‘er,?” he asked.

"I could always throw ya up." Riff offered teasingly, before jumping the small distance between the boat and the dock, her hands finding the edge of the boat and gripping it to keep from falling. She pulled herself up over the side easily, and disappeared for a moment before a short board was making it's way over the side, bridging the gap. "Here. Try not t' fall, you two." She called, earning a playful 'If I do, I'm comin' back t' haunt ya' from Spot.

Sprints laughed nervously, before quickly scaling the small board and landing beside Riff on the boat. “In case of a freak storm, I’s feels like this is a great time t’ mention I’s can’t swim,” he said, brushing off his clothes while a light pink stained his cheeks. There was just no time for him to learn how to swim; it was always sell sell sell then he’d be too wiped out at the end of the day to even try to make it to Brooklyn. That was a few years back, but now he figured it was too late to try to learn.