Urgent Business (Spot)

[Jack Kelly]

Jack Kelly wasn't a frequent visitor to the lodging house in Brooklyn. If he needed to talk to Spot, he would go over to the docks, or else send Scamp for a message to set up a meeting. But this was too important, and Jack couldn't just stand around waiting for something to happen any longer. He needed to talk to Spot urgently, in private, and as soon as possible, which meant he'd have to go where Spot would be if he wasn't at the docks after a day of selling: the lodging house.

One of the Brooklyn newsies, a boy named Marlon who was about as close to Spot as one could get (Spot didn't exactly have "friends") stopped him at the foot of the stairs of the lodging house (really and old hotel that had been closed down for dangerous construction). "Goin' somewhere, Kelly?" Marlon said his usual chant with his usual smirk. Jack gave him a harsh look, all business. "Where's Spot, Marlon? This is business."

"He's upstairs," Marlon said, sounding bored suddenly, as if the prospect of something being all-business was uninteresting. When Marlon didn't move, Jack took his shoulder and shoved him aside. Marlon didn't complain, apparently knowing his place at that point.

Jack made his way up the stairs. Because the lodging house was an abandoned hotel, newsies were able to get their own rooms some of the time. Luckily, Jack knew which one was Spot's from a conference they had during the strike. He reached the door and knocked briskly. Then, thinking that Spot would most likely ignore it if he thought it was one of his newsies, he called into the door, "Spot...it's Jack Kelly. Open up, it's urgent..."

[spotconlon]

Spot had been spending a lot of time in his room lately. He wasn't turning into a hermit (at least, not any more than he already was) nor was he plotting anyone's death (except the possible ban of girls in Brooklyn because there were far too many and they were annoying as hell), but he was just... thinking. He had a lot on his mind. As much as he enjoyed being King of Brooklyn, the leader, the best, Spot did need moments of his own to be thoughtful without people barging in on him or getting on his nerves or bothering him with their problems. He was Spot Conlon here, where was the respect? Did the newsies not understand how to give their leader some time away so his head doesn't get all fucked up? He had to always be in prime condition and on the alert, damnit, so leave him the hell alone! Today had been another one of those days- barely acknowledging his newsies, selling all his papers and then retreating to his room with a door slam immediately afterwards.

His cap had long been ditched off his head and to his pillow, his suspenders lowered from his shoulders so they hung down past his waist. He now sat in a chair, his feet propped up on his bed and resting -- like they rightfully should -- and a cigarette in his hand as he blew a slow puff of smoke from his mouth. The cig was held loosely between his pointer finger and thumb, and Spot silently watched a spot on the wall that wasn't going anywhere. He listened to the distant noises of Brooklyn below him and outside, through his open window, taking another drag of the cig between his fingers. Men shuffling along to get drunk, women scolding their children as they traveled home and the newsies -- Spot's newsies -- causing general racket. For a moment, just one moment, he wondered what was going through their minds. Probably anything but selling or nothing but selling, but hey, nothing a few drinks or a push into the water or a night with a girl couldn't fix. Just as long as they stopped fooling around when the time was right, Spot didn't care what they did in their personal lives.

He quietly blew another puff of smoke out of his mouth, watching it escape as he licked his lips. He heard a shuffling downstairs, and he tilted his head towards the door to listen harder- only to hear a knock on his door a moment or two later. Should've known. "Spot...it's Jack Kelly. Open up, it's urgent..." Well, then. Jack Kelly in Brooklyn. What a surprise. Spot cleared his throat and lowered his feet off the bed, rising up and walking over to open the door with a slow smirk. "Well, well, if it ain't Jack Kelly all the way across the bridge," Spot drawled, meeting Jack's eyes with his own and laughing just barely, knowing Jack would understand and take it in a friendly sort of way rather than a threatening sort of way. "What's so urgent you gotta come all the way out here for, huh? 'Specially without even as much as a hello for his good friend Spot Conlon?" He lifted his eyebrows up, as if pulling an answer right out of Jack's mouth, not standing back enough just yet to let Jack through the doorway.