A Walk Home One Evening
Elsie was walking home at twilight when she ran into Blink. Though she didn't notice him at first since (for a change) he wasn't yelling or hitting anyone or flailing about like a madman. Instead, he was sitting on the stoop of one of the buildings, chin in hands, looking out of sorts. If only because quiet was out of sorts where he was concerned.
She didn't say anything, just walked on by. Whatever Blink's troubles were, they were definitely not her business. At least, not until she heard him call (in that unreasonably loud, boorish voice of his), "Hey, Boston, you're kind of a girl. 'Splain something to me."
"Kind of?" she demanded, turning around. She put a hand on her hip and scowled.
He smirked at her and jumped to his feet. "'Splain to me," he said, "why the hell a girl would say she likes a fella, make eyes at him, hold his hand in the park two or three times, kiss his cheek when he brings her a flower—and not mention she's got three older brothers who don't like boys who get sweet on their sister?"
"Any decent brother would never let you, of all people, near his sister," she answered easily.
"What's that s'posed to mean?"
"It means you have a reputation that precedes you."
"Big words don't make you sound smart, ya know," he answered, "just stuck up."
"It means," she said tartly, "any one who so much as looks at you knows you're only interested in one thing, and no brother lets someone like that near his sister."
"So what you're saying..." he said slowly, squinting a little. Elsie was very proud of herself for not rolling her eyes at what an obvious strain thinking was on him. "What you're saying is that she likes me! She don't want her brothers to scare me off!"
"I guess that could be it," Elsie answered skeptically, "though the good lord only knows why."
He gave her that infuriating look of his then—that one which was like a smirk, but smaller, with his lips just quirking up at the end. "You know, that reputation I got? Some girls like having a real man. Not everyone's prude like you."
"I am not a prude," she answered.
"Are so. I bet you never even kissed a guy."
"Who I kiss is absolutely none of your business!"
"That means I'm right."
She turned and began to storm off, but he dogged her steps.
"Where you hurrying to?"
"Home, if you must know."
"Course home," he answered. "I knew it."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded as she walked, speeding up.
"Just that, knowing you... Well, you weren't exactly going out for a night of theater your favorite boy...or with friends, neither. Wait, that's 'cause you don't got any."
"How I spend my time, and with whom, is absolutely none of your business."
"Sure, that's true, yeah," he agreed. "But don't it get awful lonely, never goin' out?"
"I am perfectly content to save my money."
"A real gentleman would pay for you," he answered.
"How would you know anything about real gentlemen?" she asked.
"If you had a gentleman to rely on," he answered, "you wouldn't be walking home by yourself. Ain't safe, you know. Even a girl as dog-faced as you's likely to get the wrong kinda attention after dark."
"I can take care of myself," she answered. "Especially if the alternative is relying on 'gentlemen' like you."
"You'd be lucky to get a gentleman like me. You're more likely to end up with a miser who not only won't pay to take you to a show, but who ain't half as good looking as me."
"Or half as arrogant?"
"Ain't no shame in being honest. I got a sweeter face than any other newsboy in the city."
She gave him a disdainful look. His smile was too big and dopey, the eyepatch made his face look lopsided, and his hair was rather straw-like. "You look altogether like an overgrown scarecrow, dressed in the cheapest castoffs."
"Well you look like a ragdoll, with that messy hair and all. No bigger than a doll, either. Only man the right size for you would be one of them midgets from the circus."
"Better a midget than a clown," she answered.
He scowled down at her. "Course, if any poor, blind fella did want to take you out for an evening, he'd end up regretting it after hearing you talk. Assumin' he could understand you through that accent of yours."
"On the contrary," she answered, "I use my sharp tongue to fend off the riffraff I'd rather not associate with." She gave him a pointed look. "Which brings up the question, what are you doing?"
"I was waiting for Hannah to get home," he explained. "So I could ask her why she hadn't warned me about her brothers!"
"What were you going to do if her brothers got home first?"
Blink paused. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Now there is a surprise." She turned on to Bottle Alley, barely a block above the lodging house that had grudgingly become home. "And what are you doing now?"
He glanced around, surprised. She rolled her eyes. He'd probably gotten so caught up in bothering her he hadn't realized that they'd wandered three blocks from the perch where he'd been waiting for his girl of the week.
"Well," he finally said, "I think it's kinda obvious. Being a gentleman and all, and seeing as how it's getting dark and all, I decided not to let a tiny little ragdoll of a girl walk around on her own an' get mugged. You oughtta thank me, Boston."
"Ha," she snapped, as they approached the lodging house steps. "I didn't ask for your help, I certainly won't thank you for anything."
"Fine," he answered, as she stepped up on to the building's landing. "But don't never say I never did nothin' nice for you."
"Your double negatives make that statement absolutely true," she answered.
"Huh?"
She smiled at his completely clueless look. "Goodnight, Blink. Go find someone else to bother."
And to her surprise, he smiled playfully. "You like it. You'd be disappointed if I bothered anyone else."
She opened the door to the lodging house and glanced over her shoulder at him, as he watched her, that stupid not-quite-smirk on his face again. "That," she said emphatically, "is the stupidest thing you've said all night."
Which it certainly was. Though she was, for some inexplicable reason, smiling despite herself.