forum Newsies role-play anyone?

Started March 26, 2018 by @PuffPoff

tune

After a long twenty minutes of walking around, Finley decided to head back. One hundred and five papes…that's my new record! He hummed to himself as he walked down the street, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

Sacia waved to the girl she'd just met –err, Samantha? Susan? Savannah?– eh, whatever. She headed down the street, splashing through a mud puddle. She spotted Finley just up ahead, and ran to catch up. "Oy! Fin!" she shouted.

He turned around when he heard his name, waving to Sacia. "Hey!" Finley stopped in his tracks, waiting for her to catch up with him. "Guess what? I sold one hundred an' five papes!"

"Oh, really?" Sacia pretended to be impressed. "I sold every single damn pape I had. How's that?" She opened her bag to prove it, showing off the emptiness inside.

"Well I sold all of mine too." Finley showed her the empty bag. "Ha. One hundred 'en five papes. With time to spare."

"Aw shut up," she teased, "I didn't even know you knew how to count to one hundred." She smiled to show that she was kidding, slinging her bag back over her shoulder.

"Nah, that's two hundred." He laughed, bundling up his bag and holding it in one hand. Finley began walking again.

Sacia followed him, her feet obnoxiously scuffing against the ground. "Did ya read the front headline today, by any chance?" she asked, trying to disguise her curiosity.

"Yeah, I did. Those New Yorkers ruinin' it for all of us." Finley grumbled.
(I have to go for now bye!)

(bye!)
Sacia nearly tripped. "Oh, uh, right. Damn New Yorkers!" She shook her fist at an imaginary foe. "Always…messin' it up." She lowered her hand slowly, her mouth puckered. She hoped to goodness she wasn't the only one in Brooklyn who supported the New York newsies.

"Well, guess I won't be needin' these anymore. Waste of money." Marvin finished dumping his papers into the sewers, defeated. He valued his life, Spot Conlon didn't.

Finley continued. "Some of us are starvin' here! I need money to eat, and I ain't throwin' it away fer some stuck up New Yorkers."

"Yeah, I guess," Sacia mumbled. "Though I'm only doin' this 'cause my dad's a damn freeloader," she said mostly to herself.

"Yous lucky you have a dad." Finley pouted. "I've got no parents, but I don' need 'em."

"Yeah? Tells that to my ma when he steals all our money and buys liquor instead of food and then yells at her for bein' stingy." Sacia pouted right back at him, putting her hands on her hips and daring him to contradict her.

"You has a mom too?" Finley shot back. "Can't get enough, huh?"

Sacia rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder enough of a shove so that he knew she meant business. "Yous orphans actin' so pitiful all the time. I got problems too. My dad's an ass, and my mom's an idiot, and we're still starvin', so there."

He rolled his eyes. "We all gots problems. You deal with yours an' I'll deal with mine. Maybe if you complain more that father of yours'll spend some time in the slammer."

"Unlike you, I ain't no whiner," Sacia shot back. She was growing bored of the argument anyway. "Who cares who got it worse? Our cute faces sold all our papes today. We should be celebratin'." She grinned, all irritation forgotten.

Finley nodded in agreement. "I ain't agreein' with them New Yorkers, but they sure know how'da make a headline. If I ever see that Jack Kelly, I'm punchin' him for startin' a strike but then I'm shakin' his hand for feedin' me."

"I like that journalist," Sacia replied, nodding. "The one who put 'em in the headline. She's good. I wanna be a journalist someday."

"Kathrine Plum…somethin'." Finley looked ahead, confused. "I'd never be a journalist. If I had a real job I'd be somethin' in show business. Somethin' dramatical."

"I'd come to your first performance just to throw rotten vegetables at you," Sacia said, clasping her hands over her heart dramatically.

"That'll be great. Only popular actors get veggies thrown at 'em." Finley laughed a little.

"If you promise to read my first article in a newspaper," Sacia said, "then i'll promise to throw veggies at ya. Deal?" She spat in her palm and held out her hand for a binding handshake.

He grinned. "Deal." Finley spit in his own palm and shook her hand firmly.