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Post by Skittery on Aug 4, 2011 15:04:10 GMT -5
The library was a polished, sterile-looking institution, and Skittery sure didn't match it well. It didn't stop him from looking, though.
The fellas sure liked to give him a lot of flack for being a "bookwoim." Sure, he'd read, but he didn't read just any books - none of that dime novel crap that Cowboy always had his nose stuck in. He liked classical stuff - Chaucer, Dickens - stuff his old man used to read, and maybe an art book or two, just to get a few new ideas.
Navigating the stacks, just browsing, Skittery murmured the excuses he'd been rehearsing just in case one of the guys spotted him here: "Uh, it ain't nothing. Just wanted some relief from the heat, that's all."
But hey, if he got lucky, maybe he'd be fully undiscovered.
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Post by Zippy on Aug 4, 2011 15:13:38 GMT -5
There was something extremely soothing about hiding out in the stacks. Zippy felt all alone in there, completely at peace. All her troubles, the stench of the city, the hard work she put into selling that barely gained her a profit- all of it was completely forgotten when she was in the library.
Zippy had found an old art book, containing the classics like Picasso and Da Vinci, and was skimming through it, loving the way the colors popped out at her. She was sitting on the floor in the middle of the aisle leaning against the book shelf.
When Skittery turned into her aisle, she at first didn't even look up.
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Post by Skittery on Aug 4, 2011 15:20:52 GMT -5
Maybe one was supposed to be quiet in a library, but Skittery felt that if he didn't at least whistle softly to himself, the place started to feel like a morgue. His guard was up, hoping he didn't run into Racetrack, who was notoriously prone to giving Skittery an extra-hard time for anything. Not that that kid would ever be seen anywhere other than the races...
He wasn't expecting to bump into a girl, though. He noticed the illustrated book, then the girl perusing it. Clearing his throat, he walked a little slower through the aisle, debating whether to say anything or just mosey on through.
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Post by Zippy on Aug 4, 2011 15:32:12 GMT -5
Zippy looked up, and her heart immediately skipped a beat. Oh god, it was him.
She hadn't really expected to run into anyone she knew in the stacks way up here, but here he was. Zippy had been trying to find a way to get Skittery's attention for as long as she had been a newsie, but had been doing an awful job at it.
"Hey," Zippy whispered, getting his attention in the quiet library, "Skittery, right?"
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Post by Skittery on Aug 4, 2011 15:40:43 GMT -5
She knew his name? "Uh..." Maybe he prided himself on having a slightly higher IQ than most of the newsies, but when it came to social interactions, Skittery was essentially the worst. "Oh! Um..."
Well, anyhow, she was a pretty girl, and one that was looking at a really great book. She couldn't be all that bad... even if he couldn't place her name. "Yeah, ah, that's me." His voice came out louder than he probably wanted it to. How was he supposed to tell her he didn't know her name? "Good to see ya." What WAS that?!
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Post by Zippy on Aug 4, 2011 15:47:19 GMT -5
Oh god, he had no idea who she was. This is what she gets for avoiding most of the male newsies and hanging too much with Tag.
Zippy glanced down at Picasso's "Starry Night", and sighed, the art filling her with a fuzzy feeling that not even an awkward encounter such as this one could ruin.
"I'm Zippy, I live on the third floor at the 'hattan lodging house. I don't think we've ever formally met."
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Post by Skittery on Aug 4, 2011 15:52:05 GMT -5
"Van Gough," he interjected, wondering if that was the right thing to say. "Nice." He offered a genuine, polite smile, but it wasn't his fault that girls just didn't approach him. He was as tongue-tied as Mush. "I, uh, I knew you were around and about Duane Street, but just couldn't place you. We're always coming and going and stuff." He barked out a chuckle.
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Post by Zippy on Aug 4, 2011 15:56:28 GMT -5
((HAHA sorry I'm not an artist. My mistake  )) "Yeah," Zippy agreed, offering the book to him. "I wish the Art Museum was free, but at least the library is, you know?" It was then that she remembered her sketchpad and pencils were laying next to her, and she quickly shoved them into her bag, embarrassed. Did he see her sketchs?! Dear god, she hoped not... |
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Post by Skittery on Aug 4, 2011 16:16:21 GMT -5
((No worries. And I even spelled the artist's name wrong, so there you go.))
He reluctantly accepted the book from her. "You sure you're done looking at it? There's a lot of neat..." His voice trailed off as a flurry of sketch paper and pencils went past his line of sight. "Wait; hold on. Are these yours? You drew them? Can I see?" In a rare moment of calculated charm, Skittery's eyes twinkled at her imploringly.
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Post by Zippy on Aug 4, 2011 16:22:01 GMT -5
"I don't know," Zippy hesitated, raising her eyebrow at him. "I mean, you don't even know who I am," she teased, holding her bag closer to her. "They are dumb anyway, that book is way better, I promise you."
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Post by Skittery on Aug 4, 2011 16:28:05 GMT -5
"I'll be the judge of that." It came out a bit more rudely than he'd have liked, but he allowed a smirk to soften it, giving one of her bag's straps a tug. "You think Van Gogh got where he is today because he let nobody look at his pictures? Come on now. This can be the first step to you being a famous ar-teest." One swoop later, he snuck his hand into the bag, pulling out a few sketches. "Well, I'll be."
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Post by Zippy on Aug 4, 2011 16:37:50 GMT -5
Zippy blinked at him, shocked that this was actually happening. The only person who actually knew she sketched was Tag, and she was her best friend.
Zippy wasn't a very secretive person, but with this- she kinda was. "Well," Zippy began, standing up and looking at him. "Now that you've seen those, I'm going to have to kill you. I'm not pleased about it myself, but, you know, you just grabbed them and all. Do you prefer me to stab you, or push you off the Brooklyn Bridge? I prefer the Brooklyn Bridge, but unlike you, I'm giving you a CHOICE." Zippy said to him sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. How could he!
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Post by Skittery on Aug 4, 2011 19:50:14 GMT -5
"A choice." He mused the words for a moment, holding the sketches for ransom. "All right. I choose to live. Why am I supposed to die? These are..." Holding the drawings out of Zippy's reach, he studied one: a remarkable interpretation of one of Central Park's statues. "Really good." His voice was in earnest; no fooling here.
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Post by Zippy on Aug 4, 2011 21:49:45 GMT -5
"You're just saying that to be polite," Zippy answered, reaching for her sketches back but he was too tall. "That's why I don't like showing people. They are too afraid to be honest and critical." And Zippy herself wasn't sure if she even wanted them to be.
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Post by Skittery on Aug 5, 2011 7:11:33 GMT -5
"Who said I can't be critical?" he countered, studying the drawings that remained still very far out of Zippy's reach. "You drew the nose funny on this one." He turned it to face her for a split second, only to look at the others again. "And the depth perception's a little off, maybe improve some shading in a few areas. But I really can't think of anything else that needs fixing." He beamed one of his rare, winning grins at her. "There. Honest and critical."
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))