1K READS 1K READS 1K READS 1K READS 1K READS--HOW?! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!
Okay, here's to picking up right where we left off! Time for step two: meet the Gambler. Enjoy! :)
Race cranes his neck to look up at the Gambler. Somehow, his face is still cloaked in shadows. Will Race ever actually see the guy's face?
Will I remember it?
Oh, who am I kidding?
Of course I'm gonna remember his face!
However, he has temporarily forgotten how to speak.
Luckily, Spot hasn't.
"We know that you knew Theodore "Stargazer" Conlon," Spot tells him.
The Gambler looks at Jameson. Jameson nods. Whatever communication went on right there, it seems to have worked.
"Come on in," the Gambler tells them. He motions inside his house.
As calmly as he can muster, Race walks inside, followed by Spot, with Jameson closing the door behind them.
Race takes in absolutely everything that he can.
It's a small room. Nice and simple. There's a coat rack and a lamp on either side of the entrance and a rug underneath their feet, a table in the middle of the room, one that they all get seated at; Race and Spot sitting together, Jameson and the Gambler sitting across from them (the Gambler is right across from Race right now); a sofa a little further back, and everything typically found in a dining/living room.
"So how did you kids stumble across something such as this whole mess?"
Why does everyone keep calling us kids? Race thinks, a teeny bit annoyed. If he appears to be a child in the eyes of the Gambler, what'll stop everyone else from viewing him as a child?
But that's not what's important right now.
Spot opens his mouth to respond, but Race beats him to it, feeling a rush of confidence. He sets the box on top of the table. "These all belong to the Brooklyn newsie we all called Stargazer." He nudges Spot with his shoulder. "This is his cousin here. Now, we came here because we wanted to find you."
Well, yeah, no duh. Race feels his face heat up. Surely that made sense, right? Not repetitive? Or rhetorical? How can he prove he's not a kid anymore if he still can't talk right?
Spot comes to his rescue. "My cousin had a lot of things to say about you." He opens up the box. "We found this in his bedroom. That's how we found out about it all. We're trying to piece together what we can."
"And why do you think I would be the one to help you piece together everything?" the Gambler asks them.
"Because you're the Gambler!" Race bursts. "Elusive, mysterious, secretive, and infamous. You know all the in's and out's of everything. If anyone could give us the answers we want, it would most certainly be you!"
The Gambler smiles. "I'm flattered, really."
Race looks down. Sure, looking down won't help him memorize the Gambler's face (which is still hidden under the shadow of his hat--who controls the lighting here??), but eye contact has never been his thing.
"We want to know more about the taken," Spot tells him. "And where they are."
"Alas, I don't know where they are," the Gambler shakes his head sadly. "If I did, they would no longer be taken. They know how to hide people well. The tricky thing is figuring out if the taken are still...on this Earth."
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I'll Always Look Out For You
Fanfiction15 years before the legendary newsies strike of 1899, a child was born. When he is 18 months old, he is brought to the Manhattan Newsies Lodging House. In time, he would be known as Racetrack Higgins. This is his story. This is the story of the news...
