8 Days, 8 Letters; Spot Conlon

Deja Vu

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you've all had a fantastic day. Please enjoy the next chapter of 8 Days, 8 Letters

Present Day: October 1899

Spot's POV

"You's did great tonight Princess," I mumbled giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you's, my dear."

"Lovebirds! Hurry up! Let's goooo!" the boys whined.

"I'm comin'! Shut your traps!"

I couldn't help but let out a laugh.

She's so cute when she's annoyed.

"I's better head out before they get more whiny."

"Is that even possible."

"Unfortunately yes. This is barely a taste," she chuckled.

"Well then goodnight doll."

"Good night my dear."

I gave her a quick kiss goodnight. However, I slightly regret doing that in front of her newsies.

"Quit makin' out!"
"There are kids here!"
"Get a room!"

"I's should go," she smiled, slightly annoyed by her newsies' antics.

"I'll see you's in 8 days," I waved.

"See ya."

I watched her walk out the door with her newsies.  Once I saw them leave, I went out the other exit since it led out to the street I needed to take.

I was walking down the dark street, for once in the street lights.

I think Books's uneasiness got to me.

I felt like I was being watched.

I looked around but it was just me.

I'm just being paranoid.

I kept walking, but a noise from the alley way stopped me in my tracks.

Someone's clearly playing a game with me, so let's play.

I stood outside the alley. I could make out someone standing in the middle, but I couldn't see a face.

"I's know you're there. What do you's want?"

He didn't say anything, just nodded to the other end of the alley way.

I took another step closer.

"I won't ask again. What do you's want."

He stepped a bit closer to me.

The only thing I could see was the smirk plastered on his face.

My eyes widened.

What the hell was up with this guy.

He didn't say anything. He just turned around and walked out the other end of the alley way.

I'm definitely following him.

I crept behind him, every step and turn until we made it to a dodgy bar.

I crouched behind a bush. The man stopped and looked around before walking in.

I turned to the window behind me and saw the man sit down.

The man was decently tall and had brown hair, similar to how Books described him.

Maybe this is Mr. Eriksson.

The man ordered a drink, but kept his head low, not making eye contact with anyone.

This has to be him.

Another man joined him at the bar a few minutes later, ordering a drink.

They began talking. Mr. Eriksson shook his hand and turned his body towards the man.

Odd for an antisocial.

They were leaning close to each other like they didn't want anyone to hear what they were talking about.

I need to know what they're saying.