(Untitled)

Nov 27, 2009 03:14

It is a warm summer evening in St. Louis, in an indeterminate and probably anachronistic year somewhere in the Victorian era. The when isn't exactly important; the feel is what matters ( Read more... )

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coreenfennel November 27 2009, 08:19:47 UTC
Somewhere in the streets of the city, not far from a tavern, is a girl. Small, dark, and unafraid. Or at least that's what she tells herself.

She is not bright and playful as the young man, but rather, trying to dig herself out of the palpable desperation the only way she knows how.

She plasters a smile on, wiggling and strutting, trying her hardest to make enough money for dinner, a drink, and a place to stay.

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theflyingsquirl November 27 2009, 08:43:12 UTC
There is a man coming out of the tavern.

He doesn't have the good-naturedness of the young man in the cassock; he has that desperation, mixed with the cruelty that comes of years of desperate living. And, when he looks at the girl, he has a predatory look.

"You," he says. "How much?"

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coreenfennel November 27 2009, 08:52:14 UTC
She looks over at him, appraisingly.

He looks to be the type to leave marks, and make a girl lose precious buttons off her clothes.

"Not tonight, Mister. Sorry, just waitin' for a friend."

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theflyingsquirl November 27 2009, 09:09:18 UTC
He looks like he belongs in this neighborhood, and smells like he probably just spent most of his week's pay in the tavern.

"Well, I can be your friend tonight, honey. How much?"

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coreenfennel January 31 2010, 18:52:35 UTC
Some time has passed between their meeting and now. It's hard to keep track just how much on the road, but the weather is starting to cool, even out west. Coreen has learned the life, and adapted quite well to it; she enjoys the work, and having a fairly steady lifestyle. She's finally starting to blossom, just a little, under the regular meals and ability to rest. There isn't anything she'd change.

Well, this isn't true. They're in the city today, with separate plans for the evening. Coreen will spend her pocket money on a new hair comb, dinner, and watching the girls dance cabaret, and Joe...well, Joe will spend his money elsewhere.

She doesn't say anything about it; he hasn't made mention of it, even if he does get a bit of a strain around his eyes, and she doesn't feel it's her place. She just hopes that it won't bite him in the ass.

It always seems to.

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theflyingsquirl February 1 2010, 04:09:23 UTC
Consider it the safety valve that keeps their relationship a strictly professional one.

As much as he tries to act mature and calm, the fact remains that he is still a teenager, and one living in very close quarters with a young woman he finds very attractive but also unavailable. So if once or twice a month, finances and location permitting, he hires a bit of help for his problem... he doesn't see anything wrong with that.

Besides the guilt relating to what Coreen used to do, of course. But it's easier to deflect that onto women he doesn't know than to let it taint his relationship with her.

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coreenfennel February 2 2010, 18:05:07 UTC
She finishes the last touches on her hair, and adds the tiniest bit of make-up. Understated.

A few more glances at herself in the mirror and she knows she looks like she could blend in as a lady just about anywhere. She's determined to enjoy her evening; the shows are always entertaining, and the food is usually good.

"Well, I think I'm off," she says quietly.

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theflyingsquirl February 14 2010, 16:05:38 UTC
"You look nice," he says, just as quietly.

He's looking sharp in a relatively new grey pinstriped suit (that is not yet too short for him at wrists and ankles), tail brushed, hair combed, shoes polished. Just another young man of modest means, preparing to hit the town.

Don't want to look too rich, or the girls charge more. Don't want to look too poor or they won't pay him any attention.

"So... here we are, I guess."

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