8 Days, 8 Letters; Spot Conlon

This May Be Hell, but at Least I'm Pretty

A/N: Hey everyone! I apologize this took forever to come out, I got sick and had a lot of homework to do. I enjoyed writing this chapter and I'm sure it being possibly the longest one I've written shows that. I love that I got to do so many interactions, especially with Jaime, Medda, and Spot. Please enjoy the next chapter of 8 Days, 8 Letters!

Present Day: July 1899

Jaime's POV

I woke up a bit earlier than I intended. I guess I'm excited to start selling papes again.

I climbed down from my bunk, grabbed some clothes, and headed into the bathroom to get dressed.

I pulled on a collared shirt with some plaid slacks and suspender before throwing on my vest and buttoning it.

I walked out of the bathroom and sat by the window watching the sunrise.

I really did get up early.

The sunrise was pretty. I don't often have the time to watch it and most of the time it's hard to see because of the clouds and buildings.

It was pretty though. The bright oranges and pinks danced with the dark sky.

It illuminated the city, making it look like one of Jack's paintings.

I was so mesmerized by the sunrise I didn't hear Kloppman come in.

"Enjoying the sunrise, Books," he said behind me.

"Yeah. It's really pretty today."

"It sure is. Maybe the boys could enjoy it for a bit after we get them up."

I smiled at him before whistling loudly.

"Time to get up lazy bums!" I shouted.

I was met with a chorus of groans.

"Time to get up boys! Skittery! Boots!" Kloppman yelled.

"We have to actually work now. We're not on strike boys," I announced. "Race get up."

I tapped on his bunk, waking up poor Crutchy below him.

Race didn't even stir. I guess making us broke took a lot out of him.

"Want my crutch?" he asked, sitting up.

"That'd be nice."

I grabbed it from where it was leaning on the bunk and began poking Race with the end of it.

"Race."

Crutchy hit the bottom of Race's bunk, joining me

"Race."

"Race," we called.

"No." he whined.

"What do you mean no? You have to get up to make money, so you don't go into debt with this guy like ya did with Weasel."

"I'm going on a sleep strike."

"What do you think that means?"

"It means I sleep until you's leave me alone."

"I'm not an expert Race, but I'm pretty sure a sleep strike would mean you's don't sleep until we leave you's alone," Crutchy responded.

"Since when did you's become Books?" Race whined. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"Race, get up before I drag you," I sighed, pinching my brows.

He rolled over ignoring us.

"I think we have to get reinforcements," Crutchy said.