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Hell is a Sober Crawl	By : Glitter_Ink Category: M through R > Newsies Views: 499 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Otherwise, names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of my imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
MANHATTAN 1899
Sophie sat cross-legged on the floor in her lacy whites, looking like a scene out of a Marie-Louise-Catherine Breslau canvas. Flickers of candlelight cast shadow patterns against her face and the room around her. The walls had a decorative dado that had chipped away over the years, with a once elegant silver-grey wallpaper and patterned frieze, now peeling. The wind rustled through the ubiquitous ruched silk curtains, a pretty shade of sea-blue, now faded. It was as though everything around her was haunted.
Besides two or three pieces of good furniture, there were a pair of matching gilt-framed mirrors and a fine painting stacked against the wall. A few tarnished tea bowls sat atop a table, giving the effect of an otherwise harmonious afternoon engagement left abandoned. Even the stiff crimson upholstered chairs were full of little moth holes, yet the moths themselves had vanished.
Two floors below her was the stage. She could hear the bawdy vibrato of Medda's showgirls, belting out vaudeville tunes for an adoring crowd, traveling through the cracks in the floorboards.
Medda's Theater was a decent place to seek lodging, not to mention a hidden one. Three of Sophie's friends were among Medda's favorite girls. In exchange for their work, they shared a small room upstairs. Medda had been trying to recruit Sophie for a year, offering her steady pay, but Sophie refused each time, holding out her last shred of hope for something better. Medda had been taking care of Sophie for free, ever since her father was sent to prison. In the beginning, she'd sold papers with her brother as a primary means of board payment, and continued to do so for years until the strike. And now, with no employment, Medda had once again advertised for her business.
Sophie lay on her bed, watching Leah get dressed. Leah stood in front of her cracked mirror in nothing but her undergarments, inspecting her body.
"Is my nose too big?" Leah asked, pressed close to the mirror, fingers dabbing at her aquiline nose, turning her face to the side.
"No," Sophie replied, realizing this conversation was going to turn into another reaffirmation to Leah that she was indeed pretty.
Leah leaned back, tilting her head upward and gazing at her reflection. "What about my neck? Does it look chicken-like?"
"No," Sophie sighed, burying her face into Leah's pillow. "You're beautiful, Leah."
Leah bit her lip, not convinced. "Okay, but if you saw me for the first time, would you think I'm going out of my way to look beautiful or passable enough to be beautiful?"
Their other friend, Bella, sat at the vanity table doing her makeup. "Leah, we're not doing this again tonight. You're gorgeous. Shut up."
Smiling a little, Sophie got up and fixed her hair over Bella's shoulder.
Leah shimmied into a corset and took it off after a beat. "It's not fair. I don't look good in anything. I have nothing to show. No tits."
Sophie looked at Leah's nymph-like figure out of the corner of her eye. "Leah, you might be insane. Stop letting Kid Blink of all people make you feel like you're any less pretty than you are. He's an idiot."
"He's not an idiot," Leah argued, placing her hands on her hips. "He's immature."
"I rest my case," Sophie sighed.
Bella ran her finger along her lip line to remove excess color. "Which is why you need to show Blink he didn't mean anything to you, and he lost the queen of New York," she said.
"Queen of Manhattan, maybe," Leah corrected with dejection.
Sophie and Bella laughed, taking turns in front of the mirror.
"I don't know, maybe I'm delusional," Sophie said. "But romance is dead."
The girls were quiet for a moment.
"You've had bad luck," Bella replied.
"Don't confuse luck with god-awful choices," Sophie mumbled.
Leah threw her hairbrush onto the bed, watching it bounce to the floor. "Blink destroyed any shred of hope for romance I had left," she whined, flinging herself onto her bed. "Watching him walk around the city with that...that woman! Who does she think she is? Waltzes out of nowhere and she's all he can drool over? Is it because she's a California girl? They're all wild anyway. I don't think she even wears a corset."
Leah was referring to some rich girl from out west who'd taken a liking to Blink, seemingly to spite her own parents.
"He was going around with at least two other girls before you," Bella reminded Leah.
"Any guy would be lucky to be with you," Sophie added at the same time. "You'll find someone tonight."
Leah arched her eyebrow at the girl. "I don't need to hear this from someone who doesn't believe in love."
Sophie chuckled under her breath. "Is that a bet? I could make a man do anything I want. Give me two shots of whiskey. I'll be someone's by the end of the night."
Leah laughed along, her former display of insecurities vanishing for the moment.
Bella turned to Sophie, giving her a 'come now' look. "Doesn't mean you'd accept. You sabotage yourself every time with this anti-love conviction."
Leah noticed the way Sophie wilted. "Don't be cynical," she said to Bella, who shrugged.
A knock came at the door, and Toby — Medda's mustached stagehand — poked his head in.
"Girls, I've got a curtain going up in two minutes with no one onstage. What's the deal—"
"We ain't working tonight," Bella replied. "Ask someone else."
Leah threw her slipper at the doorframe, covering herself with her arms. "If you do this one more time, Toby, I'll tell Medda about last night! Now get out!" She screamed as Toby closed the door.
"Last night?" Sophie looked over at Leah. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Leah and Bella exchanged a look. "No, but Toby does."
Colleen climbed in off the fire escape, putting out her cigarette on the railing and flicking it over the side as Medda came through the door. The woman appeared to be half-drunk, and fueled by boredom, her eyes going to Sophie.
"Sophie," Medda smiled, pulling her kimono around herself. "What's the matter, sweetie? Your face is all screwed up."
"Just tired," Sophie said, offering a light smile.
"I heard about the little newsboy strike," she said, borrowing Bella's lip stick and reapplying it in the mirror. "How long has it been going for? A month?"
"Two weeks."
"Uh-huh, the poor dears," Medda swayed, dabbing rouge onto her hollowed cheeks, singing along to the song downstairs in stilted Swedish.
"Hiya, Soph," Colleen smiled, her wide eyes hazy as she gave Sophie a little hair ruffle.
"Haven't seen you in a little bit," Sophie said, returning a warm grin to the blonde.
Colleen smiled, revealing nothing.
Medda adjusted her curls, placing a hair pin between her lips. "Oh, Colleen's flippant. She's got herself a new beau."
"For now," Leah giggled.
Colleen rolled her eyes. "Medda, don't be ridiculous. He's nothing more than a friend."
Medda laughed like she was in a daze, raising her hands in a dramatic surrender. "As you like, dear. But who was that charming young man who came to see you this morning?"
"I'm not arguing, Medda," Colleen said in a sing-song voice, spritzing herself with perfume to hide the scent of smoke.
"Mush Meyers. Absolutely enamored with my Colleen," Medda winked at Sophie. "Sophie, darling, how's that brother of yours? It's been...well, it's been a week since I've seen him. He brought his new little friends to visit, and then he fell off the face of the earth, it seems."
Sophie smiled, feeling uncomfortable. "Oh, Jack's fine. He's good."
Colleen gave Sophie a knowing look.
"Thanks for asking," Sophie replied to the floor, bringing her knees to her chest.
After Medda had walked out, Colleen sat beside Sophie.
"With the strike...I mean, how bad is it?" Colleen asked.
"Bad," Sophie whispered.
The other two girls joined her on the floor in nervous silence.
Leah traced her fingers along the lacing of Sophie's chemise. "Is this the one I lent you?" She asked. Sophie turned and followed her gaze to the hole in the seam. "Don't try to mend it yourself. You'll make it worse. I'll do it."
Sophie bit her lip, looking as though she were counting in her head. "You should never have let me borrow it in the first place. Everything I touch falls apart somehow."
Leah sighed. "But you needed a new one anyway. The one you had before wasn't grown up. And now see how pretty you look—"
"I don't want to look pretty," Sophie hissed, snapping her blue eyes to meet Leah's dark ones. "I didn't ask to be pretty. I hate being pretty."
"What a little goose you are, to think your brain will fill your stomach," Leah replied with an astonished wide-eyed expression, as if she'd been slapped across the face.
Sophie said nothing, continuing to stare at her friend until Leah huffed and stepped onto the fire escape for a smoke. Colleen shook her head before following Leah out.
Bella squeezed Sophie's hand. "Come out with us tonight, Soph," she said, tucking a strand of Sophie's hair behind her ear. "Tibby's hasn't been the same without you. And ever since the strike, it's not like there's been much familiar company."
Sophie heaved a weary sigh, looking at her friend's hand in hers. "What do I have to celebrate?"
"That you're in good health. That you have friends who love you, and who are willing to pay for your drinks," she gave a wink. "We know you ain't working much anymore."
Sophie breathed out, burying her face into her hands. She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. Bella looked at her, concerned, gripping her wrist.
"What is it?"
Sophie looked at her. "I made a stupid decision, Bella, and now it's too late to fix it."
Her eyebrows knitting together, Bella released Sophie's wrist. "What? Are you pregnant?"
"No," Sophie managed an exasperated laugh. "God no. I... I have a stupid understanding with Spot Conlon. All to get him to join the strike. But I shouldn't have done it with the way the strike is going. I mean, it's been two weeks now, and nothing's changed. The price hasn't lowered."
Now it was Bella's turn for a dramatic sigh. "Spot Conlon? Sophie, he used to hang you head first off the docks."
"We were younger. He's different now."
"Of all people..." Bella trailed off with a smile, hoping to see the same resolve on Sophie's face but finding a regretful frown. "What does he get from this understanding?"
Sophie coughed, not wanting to look her best friend in the eye.
Bella gave her a playful push against the arm. "He's getting your attention for free. That's not like you," she said with a soft laugh. "Does your brother know?"
Sophie shook her head. "I don't know what Jack knows anymore. And I don't care. It's not his decision," she said. "I guess I wanted to help, but it's exhausting."
Bella nodded, staring at the floor. "Is that why you haven't been sleeping here?"
Standing, Sophie flipped her long hair over her head, raking her fingers through the tangles and flipping it back. She platted it down her back, pacing the room.
"And is that where your boots are?" Bella guessed, looking at her bare feet.
"His Superintendent almost caught us," Sophie mumbled, throwing on her calico dress that had been draped against the chair. "Had to hop out of the place without them, okay?"
"We all wear about the same size. Leah has an extra pair," Bella said, shaking her head in disbelief.
She turned to look at Sophie, eyeing Leah and Colleen smoking and talking on the fire escape. "Queens was easier to convince, believe it or not," Sophie replied with a small smile. "And Staten Island."
Bella's smile faded into a look of surprise. "Sophie you didn't," she said, almost in awe.
"Whatever, it's done," Sophie held up her hands. "Let me wallow in my so-called charitable deeds," she groaned, sinking into a stiff chair.
The window slid open, and Leah poked her head in. "Well, are you two coming or not? If I'm not drunk by midnight, I might never forgive either of you."
Bella looked from Leah to Sophie, offering steady smirk. She stood, pulling on Sophie's arm. "Come on. A little liquid courage before you have to see him won't kill ya."
Sophie rolled her eyes before allowing herself to be pulled by Bella and whisked out the fire escape window into the cool July air. Colleen gave Sophie a once-over. "Where are your shoes?"
Sophie shook her head, heading down the fire escape. "Brooklyn. Up Spot Conlon's ass."
The three exchanged a look and followed her.
Tibby's was suffocated by a rowdy and raucous gathering that night, all drinking and dancing. Sophie and her entourage walked through the crowd, taking it in, looking out for familiar faces. She could hear rumblings of a fight as she pushed through the mad chaos of the usual Friday night party. She found Muggs Tracey, a Brooklyn boy, shirtless, wasted, and aggravated.
He was yelling at a businessman in a suit, backing him against a wall and demanding to fight. The man tried to walk away, but Muggs grabbed him and threw him back toward the wall.
The crowd around them erupted in pandemonium, trying to get an unobstructed view of the action, and making bets on the outcome. The odds did not favor the businessman.
None of the Manhattan boys were in sight, a painful reminder of their situation. Her eyes landed on a few more of Spot Conlon's cronies, as well as none other than Jack's old associates.
Sophie knew them as such. Jack didn't hang around with them often, but their shared time in the Refuge had kept the bond strong. Among them that night was Cards Mahoney, Lion Valentini, Shakespeare Lindy, and Charles Marquette – all four of them at the bar, nursing their second and third drinks. Former Midtown newsies, strike unaffiliated. As of yet.
Sophie watched them for a moment. They seemed to know everyone, talking with random patrons, taking drags from their cigarettes, Lion speaking in rapid Italian with the bartender. If they joined the strike, then the other Midtown newsies would, too.
Sophie steered her friends toward their setup at the bar. Shakespeare, whose brains could give David Jacobs' a run for his money, was reading the paper in the dim light of the place. Marquette was busy sketching something again on a page Shakespeare wasn't using, ignoring his pint as usual.
"Are all the French lightweights?" Shakespeare asked, eyeing his friend's full glass.
"Are all Americans pricks?" Marquette retorted in his thick accent with a half-smirk, not looking up from his drawing.
"Yes," Shakespeare replied deadpan, as the rest of the table laughed.
Cards looked preoccupied across the table. His foot pumped as he glanced out the foggy window.
Sophie walked over to the table with her friends, sporting an almost apologetic smile on her face.
"Cards Mahoney," she said to Cards.
"Jack Kelly's baby sister," Cards feigned a guess, though he indeed knew who she was, and turned to her friends with a similar welcoming smile. "How the hell are ya."
"Hi fellas," Leah said to the table, batting her eyelashes. She hadn't been in the place five minutes and had somehow managed to take two shots behind Sophie's back.
"Hey," the boys echoed in unison.
"How's it going?" Sophie asked.
Lion squinted, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Same as it always goes. Why, you know different?"
"Thought I'd ask," Sophie replied with a weak smile.
A brief pause followed.
"So, Manhattan newsies are on strike..." Shakespeare said.
"Yeah," Sophie laughed. She didn't know why. It was an automatic reaction.
"You poor waifs," Shakespeare tilted his head, looking up from his sketch at all four girls. "You must be starving. Jack ought to be taking diligent care of you."
Bella rolled her eyes as Sophie added, "Maybe you could tell him that for me?"
"Or you boys could join the strike, help us end it sooner," Bella said, squaring her shoulders.
"If it's not completely destroying your livelihood," Sophie added.
"Nope, not at all," Lion assured her. "We got more dough than J.P. Morgan."
"Shut up," Cards chuckled, shaking his head, and offered Sophie his cigarette.
Sophie took a drag from it.
"Hey, Cards, look," Lion said as he pointed across the bar. "Ain't that Racetrack Higgins? Don't he owe you money?"
"That son of a bitch," Cards muttered, eyeing the Manhattan newsie at another table with a girl on his lap. He turned to Sophie. "Be right back, baby sis." Cards patted her shoulder and left the bar with Lion.
Sophie offered a weak smile, hating the nickname. She hoped they didn't all see her as Jack's little sister. Spot Conlon certainly didn't.
"Drinks?" Shakespeare asked the girls, counting as they raised their hands. "On me," he said, getting out of his seat to track the bartender who'd disappeared.
Marquette gestured for the girls to join him at the empty seats. They obliged with small smiles.
"Hey Marquette," Sophie greeted him.
"Hi Sophie," the Frenchman said.
She noticed he had been composing a drawing on the page. It was a picture of the restaurant.
"Oh, that's a nice drawing," Colleen said in awe.
"Oh, thanks, yeah, I'm trying to be a naturalist," Marquette took a puff from his cigarette, blowing smoke from the side of his lips. He folded the page, giving the girls his full attention.
"How've you been?" Sophie asked him.
"Pretty good," he replied. "Better than last year anyway. You?"
"I'm fine," Sophie said in a sad attempt to sound chipper. "But you and the others have had it a lot worse. I'm not one to complain."
Bella eyed Marquette's full pint, and he winked at her, nudging it her way. She accepted it, taking a sip.
"Has he told you much?" Marquette asked Sophie.
"No," she shook her head, making an embarrassed 'bleh' face. "Jack doesn't ever talk about the Refuge."
Marquette seemed sympathetic as Shakespeare returned with a tray of drinks. "The Refuge?" He asked, catching part of the conversation. "We don't speak of it. Ever," he said with a teasing smile, though the haunted look in his eyes betrayed him.
"Give me a drink, and I'll speak of whatever you want," Leah said with a know-it-all smile, to which Shakespeare handed her a glass and clinked it with his.
"How's Camille?" Sophie asked Marquette, ignoring the game Shakespeare was knowingly, nay happily, playing with Leah. "And your new baby? Congrats."
"They're both good," Marquette said with a genuine smile. "Amelie's turning one years old next month."
"Yeah, and she speaks better English than him," Shakespeare added over his shoulder.
Marquette shook his head. "You're not still selling newspapers anymore, I take it?"
"I'm between jobs," Sophie mumbled. "I'm sort of desperate for money at the moment." She laughed, sounding unnatural. Another awkward moment passed between them.
"So, I heard Queens and Staten Island newsies are on strike. Even Brooklyn," Marquette continued. "I haven't seen Spot Conlon in a while. He must be closer with Jack than I thought."
"Yeah, incredible solidarity," Sophie said with a touch of hopelessness. "It's not just a strike for newsies. Any young person could join."
Marquette looked mock-scandalized. "Don't give me that look. I can't afford to strike. I have a family to feed."
Bella and Sophie took a sip from their drinks at the same time. "And what's their excuse?" Bella asked, pointing to the other three boys.
"I can't speak for them," Marquette gestured, "but you know those three. They'd either be too drunk or too hungover to get much picketing done."
Bella sighed, raking a tired hand through her dark hair. "There ain't enough of us."
Cards and Lion rejoined the group at the bar, Cards counting a few dollars in his hands.
At that moment, the fiddlers in the corner began up again with their music, livening up the restaurant with people dancing around the bar.
"Let's go!" Leah said, pulling Shakespeare out onto the dancefloor and spinning around.
Bella leaned close to Sophie. "What time is he expecting you tonight?" She whispered. "Spot."
"He's lucky if I even show," she said with an eyeroll, knowing damn well she had to meet Spot at midnight.
The thought of the long night ahead of her made Sophie want to throw herself to the ground and scream. Instead, she took another shot of whiskey, swooping her head to the wooden counter as the alcohol rushed down her throat. She leaned back and shook her head when something – or someone – caught her eye.
"I'll be right back," she mumbled to Bella, brushing past her friend and the crowd of drinking patrons. She followed as the person disappeared down the center of the dance floor, trying to find her balance and footing as the shots took effect. Leaning against a table, refusing to crawl, she kept her balance before she walked, bracing herself should she fall.
She weaved, losing her footing, and stepping over broken glass toward the opposite end of the restaurant. As she neared side door, she eyed Muggs, bruised, pounding back an enormous amount of liquor with the rest of Spot Conlon's boys. Though Spot himself was nowhere in sight.
Sophie followed the person into the side alley, somehow more clouded with smoke. "You're following me?" The young man asked, turning around and flashing Sophie a faraway grin. "I take it Jack doesn't know you're here."
He ran a hand through his greasy golden hair and leaned backward onto the brick wall next to a few others. A long red pipe was passed to him, and he inhaled while keeping eye contact with Sophie, awaiting an answer.
"Hey, Alexei," she said, giving a slight smile to Jack's fellow inmate. Alexei was a risky shot, but if he supported the strike, Muggs Tracey would, too. And that would be an incredible advantage.
The Russian, Alexei, moved over to make room for Sophie to sit beside him, passing her the long pipe. She took it, not paying attention to the room spinning around her.
She pulled back with a series of coughs, smoke pouring out of her mouth and nose. There was no way she could inhale it. "Jack doesn't need to know. I can take care of myself."
Immediately, Sophie regretted it. The wall looked like it was moving.
"You're supposed to hold it," Alexei said with a weak smile. "It's not like a cigarette."
"Can't do it." Sophie finally stopped coughing, shaking her head.
"Heard about the strike," he said in his raspy accent. "How are you feeding yourself?"
"That's actually what I came to talk to you about," Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Medda's made compelling job offers, but I wanted to see if you knew of any...nicer places? With expensive clients?"
Alexei stared off in deep contemplation. "Listen, Sophie," he began, his eyelids heavy. In fact, Sophie was certain she'd never seen him sober before. "You do what you want, but don't settle for something because you feel it's your best choice," he said, one suspender falling off his shoulder. "And that includes whatever I could offer."
Sophie looked at him, the rims of his blue eyes reddened and his breathing uneven. She hadn't expected that response. "Sure," she said.
"I know, I know, I'm the last person to tell you this," Alexei said, his voice light but his eyes grave. "I've seen a lot of girls like you on Randall's Island. Nice girls who weren't given a fair shot. I don't want to see you there, too. I'm not the same person I used to be."
Sophie stared at the opium pipe in his hand, and he followed her gaze, laughing a bit. "Well, I guess some habits never die. But I ain't going back there. I learned my lesson. You want work, talk to Muggs. But I'm not pimping out Jack's little sister."
"You're talking as if Muggs hasn't changed."
Alexei shifted to face her, something in his expression making Sophie's blood run cold. "Muggs will never change, Sophie. He'll be back in the Refuge. Only a matter of time. And then he'll get sent to Sing Sing. Who knows, maybe I will, too. That's the truth of it. But, kid, you've got people who love you. Don't let this be it," he said, gesturing to the others around him. "You don't want to end up like us."
Sophie winced, trying to avert her eyes.
"You were all Jack would talk about in the Refuge," he continued with a distant stare, passing his pipe to someone else. "He swore once he got out, he'd make sure you'd never end up there yourself. Even when he thought he'd die, he kept living so he wouldn't leave you all alone. I don't know what that kind of love is like, but you better not throw it away for a lousy strike."
Collecting her thoughts, Sophie chewed on her lip, feeling hot tears sting her eyes. She looked over at Alexei, his drugged-out gaze meeting her watery one. "Well, I don't plan on ending up there anytime soon," she said, a weak smile forming on her lips. "But if I do, you'll come to bust me out, won't you?"
Alexei stared at her, chuckling. "I'm already on my way, kid."
When Sophie left the alley, returning inside, her face felt numb, her skin sweaty. She looked at the bar, finding the group she'd left in the same spot, but more intoxicated.
Out of nowhere, Bella came running toward her. "Where did you go? You missed it! The owner kicked out Muggs Tracey for breaking the waiter's nose. How is sweet little Colleen related to him?"
Sophie feigned interest as Bella wrapped her arms around her friend in a hug. "You can't disappear like that, okay? I almost organized a search party."
At the bar, Cards and Lion did a shot of whiskey, while Leah sat in Shakespeare's lap, pouring a pint down his throat. Colleen asked Bella to help her outside. "I don't feel well," Colleen was moaning, her stomach turning. She hunched over.
"I told you to eat before you drink, or you'll make yourself sick," Sophie sighed.
"Okay, don't be sick here," Bella said, helping her to her feet and exchanging a look with Sophie. "Come on, keep it in until we get outside."
"Shit, what time is it?" Sophie asked Cards.
Cards fumbled. "Almost eleven," he said, checking his pocket-watch.
Sophie sighed and took a shot, grimacing as the liquid burned her throat. "Thanks for the drinks. I have to go."
"Want me to call you a cab?" Cards asked, having to yell above the noise.
"No, I'll walk," Sophie said. "Will you make sure they're okay?" She asked, referring to the girls.
Cards squeezed her shoulder but didn't look convinced. "Can't I walk you? Jack would kill me if anything happened."
"Jack will never know I was here," Sophie said.
"But it's late," Cards said, seeming to sober up in a matter of seconds. "I'd feel much better if you stayed at our place or if I brought you to Medda's."
"I'm not going to Medda's," Sophie said with a regretful smile and a wave. "I'll be fine. See you later," she said, giving him a quick hug.
"Sophie! You're leaving?" Lion said, drunk, enveloping her in a tight squeeze. "Tell your brother to come drink with us next time."
"Yeah, sure," Sophie tried to laugh. "I'll tell him."
Cards gave her a knowing look. "Hey," he pulled her aside before she could leave, his mouth next to her ear. "If you need anything for the strike, you tell us. We'll take care of it."
Sophie winked with a soft smile, not knowing what to say. With that, she ducked out of the restaurant and began the long journey to the Brooklyn Newsboy Lodging House — the one Spot was at. She weaved down the streets, keeping out of sight.
The alleyway beside the lodging house was dark and empty, save for a few rats scurrying along. Sophie wrapped her arms around herself, minding where she stepped as she tiptoed along.
"You're late," a voice came from behind her.
She turned with a start, her heart about to beat out of her chest. "I lost track of time," Sophie said with a stern glare but forced a tipsy smile. "Guess I'll have to make up for it."
Spot smirked, stepping into the alley, closing in the world around her. "I was almost worried about ya." He brushed her wild strands of hair out of her face, his eyes narrowing a bit. "You smell hammered," he teased, towering above her, tilting her head toward him and inhaling. "Sophie," he admonished, looking her in the eye. "Have you been…smoking?" He asked, pretending to be horrified.
Sophie glanced around. "Is that what you want to do? Lecture me?"
Spot snickered, running a gentle thumb under her eye, brushing away a stray tear she didn't even know she'd let fall.
"In here? Again?" Sophie rubbed the back of her neck, observing the dark and terrifying alley. "Can't we go somewhere more comfortable?" She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips together, already regretting asking.
"Oh right, I forgot," Spot sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I booked us a room at the Hotel Delmonico."
Sophie rolled her eyes, not blind to the hollow panic that rose in her chest. "Funny..."
"Missing something?" he said, gesturing to her bare feet.
Sophie glanced from him to the bunk room window and back to him. "They're under your bed."
He pulled the pair of them out from behind his back, offering them to her.
Sophie took them, knelt, and laced them. She looked at him. "What do you want me to do this time?"
Spot laughed a little, sliding against the brick wall to stand beside her. "Is that all you think of me?"
"You agreed to this in the first place," Sophie replied.
"You offered," Spot said, his legs outstretched. "And I wasn't going to join Manhattan's cause so I could starve for nothing."
Sophie cursed under her breath, pulling at the boot laces. She looked over at him, meeting his gaze with a blank stare of her own.
Wanting to get it over with, Sophie nuzzled his neck, kissing his collarbone, and leaving a rough trail.
He groaned with a light chuckle, before pushing her back. "Sophie," he said as he tried to continue. "Hey, stop, it's okay."
Sophie pulled back, confused, and tipsy from the alcohol consumption. "You don't want..."
Spot shook his head. "I'm sort of tired, kid," he said, brushing her hair back.
"What? But I came all the way over here." She felt hot tears well in her eyes. "Spot, I came all the way over here for you!"
Spot looked at his hands, scraping at dead skin. "Let's sleep. It's late."
"Spot, I'm not allowed in your lodging house! And I don't have the strength to go all the way back to Manhattan," Sophie said, her voice shaking. She raked her fingers through her hair, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a warm bed.
"Sophie," Spot said, embracing her in an uncharacteristic hug, resting his chin atop her head. "You don't have to go nowhere. I'm sleeping out here with you, okay?"
"Oh, we're sleeping outside?" Sophie grumbled. "Hospitable."
"Do you have a better suggestion?"
Exhausted and a bit dizzy from the whiskey shots, Sophie snuggled closer to Spot, leaning against his chest, eyelids heavy. The alcohol had hit in the worst way, making her mind swim and her tongue say words without permission.
"You don't have to be nice to me, Spot," Sophie said, too tired to get up and leave.
Spot looked at her, like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself.
"What?" Sophie asked, her annoyance clear.
"Nothing."
"Quit staring at me like I'm some bird with a broken wing."
Spot hummed in an attempt at a laugh and looked away. "I wasn't."
Sophie allowed herself a small smile which she concealed in the shadows.
"Do you hate me?" Spot whispered, his voice keeping its teasing air.
"No," Sophie slurred, her eyelids drooping. "You're just not a gentleman."
Spot huffed again, not sure whether to be wounded or amused. "Oh. Damn."
"I don't like the dark," Sophie said out of nowhere in a small voice, huddling in close to Spot's body.
"Hmm," Spot mused, stroking her hair. "Me neither."
It was an odd feeling, Sophie thought, being coddled by Spot Conlon. She played with his long fingers, feeling an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
"I miss my brother," she whispered, her shoulders shaking.
Spot looked at her in his arms. "He's probably sleeping."
"No, he doesn't sleep," Sophie mumbled. "He's awake." She felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, feeling somewhat comforted, as well as somewhat of a sexual tension she didn't want to acknowledge.
Spot leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Nah, he's asleep. Like you should be."
Sophie crumbled against him, laying her head against his chest once more, a few stray tears trickling down her numb eyes. "Maybe you could tell me a story?" She asked, her eyes closed, feeling his hand enclose with hers.
"Mm, a story?" He asked, sounding like he might drift off to sleep at any moment himself. "What kind of story?"
Sophie hummed. "Something about you. Something nice."
Spot was quiet for a moment, in thought. "I don't have any of those…" he trailed off with a low chuckle and cleared his throat. "Would you settle for a back scratch instead?"
As he dragged his nails along her back, Sophie allowed sleep to take over. Even under the influence, she realized Spot was trying to divert any efforts to get a sense of humility out of him. But she didn't mind. The fact that he was being this empathetic was mystifying enough for one evening.
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Hell is a Sober Crawl