a book of shots | tbn one shot collection

BROOKLYN ROYALTY

The chill of winter brushed past her as she went, tangling its fingers in her ginger locks. Snow fell from up on high, landing on her lashes and obscuring her vision. Though the December air burned her lungs, it felt like a rush of something sweet as she took in a deep breath through her frozen nose.

With a sigh, she wiped the corner of her eyes where the harsh wind had pushed out tears, continuing on her way. It didn't take long for her to find a willing customer who'd mindlessly bought her story about how certain sources predicted a bitter Christmas season, as Mr. Cresswell, the poor widowed man who'd been keeping the shelves stocked with toys for parents to give their kids, had as of late been discussing details of his upcoming retirement. This was not a message many anxious parents hoped to hear when the time to get gifts for their little ones drew near.

In fact, this story had sold her as many as twenty papes before a gruff old man — seeming close to retirement himself — grabbed the paper from her and flipped through it roughly, claiming he knew well of Mr. Cresswell, and that the man was just fine, mind you. He'd been in the middle of his lecture when suddenly he halted and, looking up and down between the veracious news and herself, roughly demanded, "this you, girl?" whilst stuffing the paper into her face.

Brigid batted away his hands as she grabbed the pape from him, a heavy sigh creating a cloud of steam in front of her face when she saw what he'd been referring to. It was her, indeed, accompanied by a fable of sorts that some newsmonger had chosen to spread about her. Rumours about her family, mostly, although she did get her fair share of attention. He'd even gone so far as to claim that her parents had committed adoption fraud just four days after she was born, which didn't make the least bit of sense to her, until she realised that the journalist was implying that she was an adoptee, and that she'd been born illegitimately to some random couple. Somehow, according to the guy, that was supposed to explain why she'd turned out the 'way she had', along with a bunch of mumbo jumbo about her father. The fake one, supposedly.

"Yeah," she said dryly. "Dat's me alright."

Clearly, this wasn't The Sun news. Mere weeks after the death of Domino, Oscar, Jack, Elmer, and her father, Katherine had written a news article featuring Brigid herself. As well as it had explained the situation of The Unknowns as best as it could've been explained, it had still sparked a sudden and erratic interest in the Delancey family... especially for the sole daughter of said family.

Still, Katherine could not be blamed for all this. If anything, she'd helped heal the situation. For one thing, Brigid was now less perceived as everyone's murderer, although she still got called one plenty. And for another... to talk about what she had been witness to had helped enormously. She and Kath had probably spent five whole hours sharing what they had each been through.

It had felt somewhat different than when she would vent to one of the guys. With it being just her and Kath, shut away in her little office, she'd felt as though she had shed away an old and withered part of her soul, leaving her feeling light and renewed. By the end of it, she and Kath had almost forgotten the reason why they were discussing all these things with each other in the first place, and it dawned on Brigid that, for news writing reasons or not, she enjoyed the talk between them both, and felt comfortable enough to share it all with the journalist. She didn't regret giving her permission to write the article, even as it had sparked countless rumours about her.

Such as this.

"Dis oughta be tha headline instead," guffawed the man.

Brigid huffed. "Yeah, yeah. You buyin'?"

He was still laughing when he handed over the money, walking off with the arrogance of a man who believed himself above the likes of a humiliated girl. A newsie, no less. And yet, although it brought others mirth at her own expense, she was glad that she'd at least gotten a few pennies out of it.