Hey Mister Can You Spare a Dime? (Invite Only Please)
Marie sighed. She was doing that more and more these days, it made her feel old or was that the sleeping in alleys and trying to scrounge up cash? Probably the scrounging up cash, that's why she was sighing tonight. Because, no matter how you sliced it she didn't have enough cash for a cheap ass nasty meal at Taco Hell... where good Mexican food went to die.
The next thing she knew, she was blinking tears back refusing to cry. It wouldn't do any good to cry. Her mother, father, siblings and all the good memories that centered around -good- Mexican food, -real- Mexican food were gone. Over, done, no more and it would do no good to think about it or get emotional about them now. Now what she needed right now as to focus and get a few quick bucks.
Of course she refused to have anything to do with drugs, and prostitution... well she'd talked to a few of the other street kids and she'd sworn to herself she'd not have anything to do with either unless she absolutely, positively, without a doubt had to. So, that left pan handling. It hurt her pride quite a bit to have to beg, but she hadn't been able to get a job and she was hardly a street performer.
Digging through her bag she found the cleanest thing she had left. Great not only did she need food she needed to do her laundry. Marie would have saved money on the laundry but she'd found that the cleaner her cloths were, and she was, the more convincing and successful she was with the pan handling. If tonight went badly though she'd wash something rather than eat, she'd just have to consider it an investment.
Tonight she set up shop down on the water front, sort of by the amphitheater, there was some so-so band playing and they seemed to be attracting a bit of a crowd, and just off the bus line. If you asked for 'bus fare' right by a bus stop people tended to put you -on- the bus rather than giving you some change.
Gritting her teeth for a second she finally fixed her best liquid brown puppy dog eyes and sweet yet slightly desperate/embarrassed smile on her face and started looking for likely targets.
"Hey ma'am. Ma'am? I'm sorry to bother you but could you spare something for bus fare I lost my wallet."Â?
Damned wench! She walked off, didn't even look up. That, Marie decided, was a bad omen about the rest of the night.
Shit. He’d broken his cane and he hadn’t gotten the prosthetic on right. It took some effort but he pulled himself up using the wall for balance and he’d just have to lean on it for the trip back to his truck. Great, down grade to invalid. But he dutifully limped along, praying the damned thing didn’t come off –again- even managing to unlock the doors when they finally got there.
He managed to temporarily waylay Belle as she got in the driver’s side.
“Where you planning on heading?”
It wasn’t that he thought she’d take the girl back to the manor, that would be foolish and Belle wasn’t foolish. But he wouldn’t mind a hint here.
When they finally got to the garage, she was surprised to find a silver pick up in a handicapped spot turn out to be their car. That just seemed odd, but he did have a fake leg. Oh, this was all so unreal.
Ysabel’s comments about Ambrose, that was his name wasn’t it, made Marie study him more closely. He did look dented. Not that she blamed him he had gotten pretty beat up but the bald one, but he’d put up a good fight too.
“You sure you don’t mind me coming with you?”
Just a hint of worry cut through her voice. How could it not?
Placing her hands on his chest very lightly, and leaning in to rest her head against him, she murmured, "I'm so glad you came when you did. I don't know what I would have done without you there."
She didn't want to hurt him, but she knew how Ambrose worked and right now he would be smarting not only from his real injuries, but from what he perceived as his failure as well. Why couldn't he see that while he may not have won the battle, the point had been to drive their assailant away and he had done that? Ysabel couldn't have. She'd have gone ghostly to avoid being hit, and would have been compelled to stay that way out of self-defense.
Looking into his eyes with a smile as loving as she knew how, she gently kissed his lips before turning back to the car door and clambering as gracefully as she could into the cab.
"Of course we don't mind," she said to Marie. "Hop in so Ambrose can get in as well."
Adjusting the mirrors to her own height (she rarely drove, even though she did have a license), Ysabel carefully backed the truck out of its spot. Just as carefully she made ehr way through Nachton's streets, driving slowly in part because she was unused to it, and also because she was very tired and probably shouldn't have been operating a vehicale in her state, anyway.
Either way, it was a relief to everyone involved when they finally reached the condo and something resembling peace, quiet, and safety.
((ooc: all out with permission, to be continued in Residences))