In Between 'Hattan and Brooklyn || A Sprace Story

Chapter 7 - "This Kid Will Never Survive."

- Chapter 7 - Tricks on the New Kids and the Tooth Fairy Stuff -
Warnings: Weasel's not a morning person
Third Person POV

"G'mornin, Weasel! Did'ya miss me?" Jack teases, placing 50 cents on the counter.

Race was conversing with Crutchie, mainly ignoring Jack.

Then, it was his turn to get papes.

Race approaches the counter, smirking. "How's it going, Weasel?" He asks, emphasizing the nickname.

Weasel rolls his eyes. "At least call me 'Mister'." He requests.

Race's smirk widens. "I'll call 'ya sweetheart if you spot me 50 papes." He winks.

Weasel glares at the boy. "Drop the cash, and move it along." He tells him, his voice getting slightly louder.

Race puts his hands up, jokingly surrendering. "Well, whatever happened to romance?" He laughs with the other Newsies as he slaps his money onto the box.

Morris rolls his eyes, handing Race his papes.

"We're joking." Race reminds Weasel, taking his papers.

"50 papes for the Racer, next!" Weasel shouts, eager to be done and head back to bed.

"That's such a cool name!" Race heard a little kid whisper, excitedly.

Race smiles slightly, walking to sit down. Guess Manhattan's getting some new kids.

Crutchie politely steps up to the table. "Good morning, Mr. Wiesel." He places his money on the box.

Race chuckles softly to himself. He never teases Weasel like we all do.

Weasel chuckles a bit, his cigar hanging from his lips. "Fifty papes for Crutchie." He tells Oscar and Morris.

And Weasel loves him for that.

Crutchie smiles, stepping up and grabbing his papers from Oscar, who hands them gently to him.

He goes to sit next to Race.

"Have a look at this," Weasel grins evilly. "A new kid!" He exclaims.

Race and Crutchie share a look, looking at the new kids.

"I'm new too!" A littler kid exclaims, popping out from behind the older one.

Race chuckles softly, noticing the older boy's embarrassment. "Don't worry, kid," Race starts from the sideline. "it rubs right off." His face goes emotionless for a moment before he laughs with a few Newsies.

The older nervously looks up at Weasel. "I'll take twenty newspapers, please." He requests.

Race looks over at Lucky, finding him excitedly whispering to Specs and blushing.

Race chuckles, nudging Crutchie, who had been counting his papes, and gesturing to the smaller boy.

Crutchie looks to where he's pointing, before chuckling.

"Twenty for the new kid," Weasel tells Oscar and Morris, before turning back to face the new kids. "Let's see the dime."

The older boy tilts his head to the side in confusion. "I'll pay you when I sell them." He forces himself to speak up.

Race shares a confused look with Jack.

Weasel sarcastically laughs. "Funny, kid." He glares at the new kid. "Come on, cash upfront."

The new kids started looking more confused and overwhelmed as this went on. "But whatever I don't sell, you buy back, right?" He asks innocently.

Race stares at him. What? That'd be Heaven, this kid has to be dreaming.