One jump ahead of the lawmen {Rigby}

[SlingShot]

Honestly, she knew that one day soon, she was going to end up in the refuge again. And Spot would kill her. She knew it, but sometimes certain things were just unresistable. Like seeing a man walking around with his wallet hanging halfway out of his pocket. That's just something a newsie is obligated to take advantage of.

Of course, in hindsight, she probably should have at least glanced around before she grabbed it. Because if she had, she would have seen the bull standing only a few yards away. And she probably wouldn't have taken the wallet. Because as soon as the man saw her dashing away with it, he'd alerted said bull, who was now pursuing her through the crowded Bronx streets. The only thing on her side was the crowds, and she ran through the middle of them, to make it as difficult as possible on the officer.

Her hair was tucked into her hat, and as she ran she pulled her hat further down on her head to make sure her hair didn't come loose. She glanced behind her. The bull was still in hot pursuit. Jesus, usually she was able to lose them fairly easily, but this one seemed to be more determined than most of his fellow officers. Damn.

She stuffed the wallet safely in her back pocket, continuing to run. If she could make it to the Bronx lodging house.. Starsage would probably hide her.

[Tom Rigby]

Rigby was just out of one of his summer classes, the subject of this particular one archaic, little-known British literature. Enthralling, as always. He was feeling rather fried and decided, then and there, that he was not cut out for university life. Hell, he wasn't even in university yet, and already he wasn't good for it.

He watched the scene with Slingshot unfold and shook his head. Great--an associative of his caught in the act of thievery. She was running full speed, and seemed to have put some distance on the cop. He appeared to be slightly shorter than the rest of the crowd, fortunately, and Tom took advantage of that quite opportunely.

His arm lashed out when she came near, but didn't hit her. He instead grabbed her arm and pulled her down into a low-stooping stairwell, one that assumably lead to the basement of the university building. "Your a lucky girl," he said with a grin, although he expected to get slapped. The window was open ajar in the stifling summer heat, and he used clean fingers to pry it the rest of the way open.

"In," he said, pushing down on her shoulders so that she would better get the idea. There was no point in trying to get the poor sod his wallet back--he probably had less use for it anyway. Granted, he was going to have to chew her out for this once she was out of immediate danger of imprisonment.

[SlingShot]

Sling didn't see Tom as she ran towards him, which was why she was taken completely by surprise as an arm appeared out of no where, grabbing her and pulling her into the small stairwell. A little shriek of surprise escaped her lips before she realized that it was just Tom, and she couldn't help but grin. "Ah, define lucky. I had everything under control," she said, still grinning and trying to catch her breath.

Slapping him was one option, but if she was going to be stubborn and prideful, she might as well not injure him as well. She watched without comment, staying out of site of the street, as Tom opened the window and ordered her inside. She obeyed him with only a few choice curses as he pushed her by her shoulders to make sure she obeyed. On a different day, in an entirely different mood and situation, she wouldn't have listened, but she wasn't exactly up for a trip to the refuge.

She climbed in the window, making sure the wallet was still in her pocket, and ducked below the window so she couldn't be seen. She knew Tom was going to give her hell for this as soon as she was no longer in danger, but at least he'd helped her. He could have let the bull take her to the refuge and considered that a lesson learned. He was a good friend, even if some of his morals were quite a few rungs higher than her own.

[Tom Rigby]

Tom smiled a bit at her, although he was much disdained by her conduct. More than once he'd had some kid--even, occasionally, newsies he recognized from his own borough-- who'd made an attempt to break it off with his pocket watch or wallet. The culprits, of course, hadn't recognized him when he was dressed to the nines, on his way to or from the university or to events. It was quite the embarassing encounter later, though. It was particularly bad when some of them had made off with his belongings and then he'd seen them with it later, and confronted them.

Awkward.

He kicked the window at least part of the way shut before he came up onto the street again. The officer saw him, looking skeptical, and he pointed to the opposing side of the street, which was densely crowded and lead into a circumventing maze of streets, all of which looked generally identical and spawned off a number of other sidestreets, all of which would be knowledgeable to newsies and the poor people who were living on them, homeless, but would befuddle someone who was merely looking for someone else.

Once a few minutes had passed, and he saw the cop make a confused turn, he bent down and pried the small window part of the way open. He was blocking the exit, though, and intended to speak with himself looking down at her in a place that she could not escape from. "Sling, what in hell's name are you doing?" He asked, gesticulating wildly with his hands. "If it wasn't enough that you'd get locked up, you might think that a girl like you would have some sort of....moral code, or something to that effect," he said, then yanked the window the rest of the way open.

"Out," he said shortly. He didn't like being mean to her, but it made his danders bristle, animal-like, when he saw he doing putzy things like that. The lividity that he was feeling was extreme, moreso than he would have formerly anticipated.

Ah, well. C'est la vie.

[SlingShot]

The room she was in was dark and dingy, and she crouched under the window, waiting for Tom to tell her it was alright to come out. While she waited, she ran fingers through her hair, wincing as they hit tangles which she tried her hardest to get out. She looked up as he finally opened the window, standing and grinning up at him.

Her grin soon faded as he began to scold her. Even though she'd been expecting it, she thought he'd at least wait till she was out of the gritty little basement room to do so. She frowned, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm stealin' a wallet from a rich bastard who don't need it anyways, is what I'm doin'," she responded. She stared at him for a long moment. "I'm a newsie. Livin' in Brooklyn. Wid Spot Conlon. You tell me, mistah Rigby, wheah this moral code comes in."

As he opened the window and ordered her out (much to her dislike), she climbed back up and out into the bright street, squinting until her eyes got reaquanted with the sun. She turned her attention back to him. "Look, Ise..." She paused. "Ise sorry, Tom. But sellin'... just ain't good right now." She lowered her voice. "Ya know I can't read. And ya know how hard dat makes it foah me to sell a decent number of papes. Ya know that." She stepped back slightly. She knew that wasn't a good enough excuse, especially not for Tom. She knew he was angry, but she felt like an idiot apoligizing like she was. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn't be giving it a second thought. She'd be on her way back to Brooklyn by now, to spend some of the money at the pub. But it was different with Tom. He was the only person in the world (besides Spot), who could make her care about something she was generally unconcerned with. Especially a stupid something like stealing a wallet from a man who simply wasn't going to miss it.

She shrugged. "I jist needed da money.."