This Ain't Just Newsies No More ~ Sprace & Javid

4 | It's Real | Race

Aaaaaaand I'm back to Racetrack, that was bound to happen sooner or later haha. So I kinda Skipped some Stuff, tryna make it go faster through the strike, so...this is night of the day Crutchie got taken. Sorry I skipped over Race and his harmonica  in Seize the Day ... :(  . In retrospect, Javid would be there. Actually, Javid is E V E R Y W H E R E. But that's not what we're here for. We're here for something else. Enjoy! :)

I must be out of my mind, Racetrack thinks as he heads towards Brooklyn when the sky is at the end daylight. Except now's not the time to think about the sky.

He said he wanted us to show him we were ready. That we wouldn't run at the first sign of trouble.

Well, they took Crutchie.

And yet they'll still strike tomorrow.

We'll need Spot, Race knows. That's the reason why he's going this late. Hopefully people don't notice he's missing. Since when did I care?

Race makes it to Brooklyn as fast as he can.

It's definitely darker now, but he can still see.

I'm bettin' on bad odds here, Race thinks. Maybe I should have thought this through. 

Too late now. He's here, in Brooklyn, looking for Spot Conlon, trying to get him to join the strike.

"Now where could he be at this time a day?" Race mutters to himself.

The more he looks around, the more he realizes how much of a lost cause this could turn out to be.

"Probably should have stuck to daylight hours," Race murmurs ruefully. "He could be literally anywhere--and what are the odds he's just wanderin' the streets? Ain't no people to sell to, nothin' really--"

"Do you have a habit of talkin' to yourself out loud or am I just lucky to learn the thoughts of Racetrack Higgins?"

Race stops talking immediately along with his heart.

It's Spot.

His stormy blue eyes, which to some look cold, calculating, intimidating, look just very very blue and  very very beautiful at the moment. Not that Racetrack thinks they're beautiful or anything.

"Hi Spot!" Race internally winces as his voice cracks. "I was just lookin' for you!"

Spot snorts with amusement. "I figured that much. Whaddaya doin' 'here? An' now?"

"I--well--er..." words are failing Racetrack right now. He's bilingual (a fact very few in his life know), and he's forgetting how forming sentences from thoughts works. Not. Heplful. At. All. "Ya considered joining the strike at all?" he says finally lamely.

Spot raises an eyebrow. Race feels his whole face flush. Well grazie al cielo that it's dark and he can't see my face as well.

Race takes a deep breath and starts over. "I mean, surely it's been tough recently. Prices up and everything. We can fix that with our strike."

"I already got the message from Jackie boy," Spot says, uninterested.

"Well, what if I said we're not gonna stop until we get our message across? We'll carry out the strike as long as we need--"

"What if scabbers come at ya?" Spot responds. "Like I told Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, you're gonna have to show me--"

"They took Crutchie," Race interrupts him, as serious as he can be. 

Spot looks taken aback. "What?"

"They took Crutchie. To the refuge. We're gonna get him back. And we're gonna keep goin' on strike until they give up what we want--"