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Midnight, Stars, and You - A Dieselpunk Love Ballad [Shiva the Cat x GrinningGentleman]

Molly kept her mouth shut through all of Le'Fleur's diatribe, the only noise she made coming from the pencil on the notepad scratching down the names and information in a hieroglyph-like shorthand that was almost indecipherable to any would-be onlooker. One or two of the names were familiar; she'd heard of the Arab fella (or so everyone assumed he was), but none of the stories were good, and she made a note to make sure she had plenty of security when she went to visit. Johnston himself wasn't familiar, but in her early days when she used to frequent the Empire Club down in the Bowery she knew the owner used to deal with someone matching his description when stocking her own stores. Marshall was a complete stranger, but she assumed he was of the same breed of backcountry hick she bought her Albany 'Shine from, and even though it was a bitch to get their product into the city, at least the price and quality were right. He would have to be at the bottom of the list for sure.

After Le'Fleur had finished speaking, the blonde woman closed her notebook and placed it back into her purse, then rose to her feet and adjusted her hat slightly. "Thank you, Madame, you have been most helpful. In return, I would like to give you a bit of insight of my own." Molly paused, then raised her graceful brows slightly.

"I think it's complete bullshit for you to say I despise women of your kind. I might not particularly like any of you, but I understand the role you play in society and I don't fault you for it. And I have never done anything to purposely hurt your business or strike at you or any of your girls. I hope you will remember that if those bastards with the wrenches ever show up in my place again." Her voice was calm, but there was more than a hint of accusation in her tone. "Hate me if you want, I don't give a rat's ass what a dime store hustler thinks of me personally. And if you want to threaten me, go right ahead. Enjoy it, even. Just don't assume you're the first, or that I've gotten this far without allies willing to protect me." This time she allowed herself a small smile. "Then again, even if you did the impossible and managed to take me out entirely, do you really think that would change things for you or yours? Do you think a bullet in Molly Fairbairn's back--you don't strike me as the type to do it face-to-face--is going to make the whores of this city any safer? If so, I have a bridge to sell you over in Brooklyn."

Molly turned and headed for the the door. "No, Madame, there will always be women like me looking down on women like you. I'd have thought you'd be used to it at your age, but I guess your kind need to have a lot of passion in 'em. But you know, as more of us start making our fortunes on our feet instead of our backs, there's going to be a lot more Molly Fairbairns in the world that you're gonna have to figure out how to live with. You can spend your time pouting and whining about it if you want, but I'd recommend keeping your emotions under control and working with us against the men that would make slaves of us all. Just a suggestion, of course."

The club owner glanced over her shoulder at the madam, then touched her hat in mock respect. "Au revoir, Madame. Tell your girls to make sure to check the front windows of the shop before they come by my place. Remember, if the green or the pink hats are missing, they'd better am-scray. I won't be responsible for any dumb broads poking their noses in where they don't belong."

With that she left the office she made a beeline straight for the door of the brothel, taking care not to make eye contact with any of the prostitutes still lingering around the hall or the lounge. Once outside, she allowed herself a deep breath, then reaching a shaky hand back into her purse pulled out another cigarette. I am smoking too goddamn many of these Molly scolded herself, but raised it to her mouth anyways. Before she could light it though, she caught sight of a familiar face leaning on a lamppost up ahead.

For a moment she hesitated, wondering what to do. Was it right to acknowledge they'd crossed paths, in a brothel of all places? Was he embarrassed by that fact? Was she? Well, not for her own sake, it was business after all. But Jacob, sweet brilliant Jacob...he didn't belong in a joint like that, unless the war really had changed him. Sighing a little, Molly supposed there was only one way to find out.

"Hey soldier, got a light?" she asked, smiling a little at him and approaching with her smoke in hand. "Quite the ah, career change you've made. Never thought I'd see you hanging around a cathouse. Or is this just a temporary thing?" Her voice raised a little in hope. Of course, he'd only been back in the country for a week or so. If he was just working here until something better came along, that was completely understandable. She even had a sneaking suspicion that Le'Fleur was probably paying him way too well for her own good, considering how her girls had to be bleeding her dry with the easy terms she gave them.

Still, she didn't like the idea of Jacob spending so much time around women like that. Her chest squeezed a little at the idea of him getting friendly with any of the girls she'd seen inside, but she did her best to keep her face relaxed and only mildly interested.
 
Le'Fleur looked up to Molly as she started, raising a brow slightly. But the more words came out, the more disinterested the woman became, slowly shaking her head as she looked back at her own notebook. She huffed slightly with a snort, as Molly suggested her threats had anything to do with killing, shaking her head lightly with a small smile on her face. She wasn't forgetting, who started out with the threats. Only difference being, Le'Fleur wasn't using someone else's name, to line the threats.
"No, not on your backs. On your comfortable asses, straight out of your Daddies pockets. Whatever you say, Molly. Keep kidding yourself. You're not speaking for women, you're speaking for rich people. You're making no difference in society. Just baning the way for more rich people to fuck each other, and make more snobby little arrogant bastards, to make our world a 'better place'." Le'Fleur suggested, raising her voice slightly, with the further Molly got away from her office, but making no attempts at following, or making sure that the woman heard. Le'Fleur shook her head and reminded herself where she stood. She'd slowly started hoping things could be different, but it never would. The rich, would always look down on them. Would never acknowledge, when someone different than them, with other upbringings, was making it good in this world. The world wasn't changing. Molly was making no difference. She was just another tall-hat, opening doors to more rich people.

No one really paid much attention to Molly's exit, the few girls around being busy cleaning up a few nooks and crannies of the place, the rest probably spending time with Milla. On the outside, Jacob was just tossing his cigarette aside, discreetly observing a man, walking down the street, at first seeming like he was heading towards the Nook, but turning towards the other side of the street, before even getting close. It made Jacob snort silently to himself, lowering his head with a few short shakes, before turning his eyes towards the familiar voice.

"Hey, Moe." He greeted back, nodding a single time as he took out his own pack of cigarettes. He brought one to his own lips, before holding out his cheap lighter, having to strike it a few times, before managing to light the woman's cigarette. Jacob chuckled slightly with Molly's suggestion, raising a brow.
"Really? You forget who I used to be?" He chuckled, cigarette bouncing on his lips as he spoke, lighting it to take an inhale. "The faces in there, are probably the most familiar faces I've seen since I got home. Poverty never changes. They came from the same as me." He shrugged, inhaling as he removed the cigarette from his lips, exhaling through his nose as he nestled against the lamp.

"And, thinking about it, it's not much of a career change, is it? Now, I am just protecting people who deserve protection, rather than the pockets of fat-cat war-profiteers." He laughed slightly, looking down the street again, another few people walking along with the cobbled stone. The group didn't seem interested in the doors they passed, so her looked back to Molly, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"I don't know. I like it here, and it pays well. Nobody looks at me like a broken man or a Monster in there. They're a little reserved, but, well, I'm a guy, so wouldn't expect anything less. Not like my kind've got a good track record around those girls." He snorted, shaking his head lightly, looking down at his cigarette, before inhaling once more. "But they're already starting to warm up to me. Found out that one of the girls here used to run with another kid's gang, on the other side of town from where Liam and I did." He explained, looking up with a smile, seemingly feeling none of the tension Molly was carrying along. He had nothing to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of. He was doing what he could.

"Instinctively, I want to ask what you were here for, but. Don't want to ruin another chance to talk to you, by being naturally inquisitive." He chuckled lightly, his tone trying to convey, that he didn't mind. That he didn't want to be accusatory. "Sorry about that, by the way. Didn't mean to spoil the mood, with all of my questions. Hope your planning is going well, though?" He smiled, figuring she wouldn't mind that kind of question. The kind, where he knew something was up. Part of him feared she would. That it had now become impossible, to even converse with his old friend. With his first Love. A love he still felt, looking down at the young woman now, even when he knew this wasn't the same person. Something had changed in her. But, a part of him, still wanted to believe the wonder-loving woman he used to love, was still in there. The woman he saw until he asked questions... Before the Blinders dropped.
 
Molly listened closely to his words, feeling a swell of sadness in her heart as he disparaged himself. "And is that all you hope for anymore, Jay? More poverty, just because you know it?" She tapped the ash into the gutter on the side of the street. "I think it's sweet you want to help people Jacob, I really do. And yeah, girls like that probably need a guy like you around to keep them out of trouble." Whether or not they deserved a guy like Jacob was up for debate in her opinion, but it didn't seem productive to mention that at the moment. "But you survived a goddamn war already. Is this really what you want for yourself? More fighting?"

Reaching forward, the woman laid a friendly hand on his shoulder and moved in a bit closer. In full daylight, he looked more like the boy she had known ten years ago. Sure, banged up a bit, but definitely not broken. Far from it. The pink painted lips spread again in a smile, warmer and more confident this time. "You are not a broken man, Jay, and you're definitely not a monster. You're one of the kindest people who's ever gotten stuck in this godforsaken city, and I truly believe you're probably the smartest still here. Some of those inventions you used to make...Christ, Jacob, that was back when all you had was scrap metal and spare change. If you got work with a proper firm, and had some real investors, I can't begin to imagine what you could do. You'd probably create something that'd send all those guys to the poor house."

She pointed up at a passing airship overhead for reference. "I meant what I said the other night," Molly continued. "I know a lot of bigwigs at top airship firms. Railways too, and dieselcab companies. I can introduce you to anyone you want, and everyone you want. Once you get a foot in the door, you can build anything you can dream of, and they'll pay you enough to get a proper apartment." Her eyes fell rather scornfully on the brothel behind them. "Someplace where you don't have to listen to strangers fucking twenty-four hours a day and throw rapists out on the street."

A dark blush spread across Molly's cheeks as she recalled her sharp words to him at Liam's party. "Yeah, sorry about that. Things are just, kind of difficult at the moment. I was in a bad mood." She took a particularly long drag on her cigarette, and thought a moment. When she was a kid, she used to tell Jacob everything, even the things he could never relate to in a million years (like how Martha bought all of stepdaughter's dresses at Mrs. Clooney's Dress Shop, when Molly really preferred frocks from La Kreuz). It didn't matter that he might not understand her troubles, he was still a sympathetic listener who always made her feel better just be being silent and letting her rant out her rages.

"See, here's the thing Jay. I'm sure you've figured it out that the feds are not exactly sympatico with me--or anyone else for that manner--running establishments to ensure people can still have a good time in this shitty world. That means I've gotta play a dangerous game when it comes to making sure no one goes dry in my joint. Now Liam used to help me out by supplying me with booze, but I found out last weekend he's going to start jacking the prices on me. So much for friendship, right?" She angrily tossed her cigarette butt into the gutter and began to pace slowly back and forth. "Of course, the same day I find this out, Vera tells me she's planned a whole glitzy bash for Prince Whats-His-Face of DumbFuckia at my club. We're going to have a shit ton of high spenders around, and all I've got is 'shine, champagne, and a couple bottles of hooch that won't last past ten p.m."

Pausing in front of him, Molly inclined her head back towards the brothel. "That's actually why I'm here today dealing with your...employer." She wrinkled her nose a little at the idea of Jacob being beholden to a woman like Le'Fleur. "I'm trying to find some other suppliers who can get me what I need by the weekend at a fair price. I will not go crawling back to Liam. You know he didn't even tell me you were alive? Let alone that you were back in town?" Stepping forward, Molly reached out as if to put her arms around her old lover, but instead draped them lazily around the lamp post, playfully swinging her small body around so that she was almost pressed up against him.

"Just think, if Frank Wilcox hadn't threatened me the other night, I'd have never gone up on the roof. I'd never even know you were in the city. We probably wouldn't be having this conversation right now, or if we did it would be a hell of a lot more awkward." She giggled a little, then swung herself away again. "So yeah, Liam's a dick, and you can tell him I said so. If I ever find out any of the old gang is alive before he does, I'll eat every hat in my shop before I breathe one word of it. See how he likes it for a change."
 
Jacob looked down to Molly as she started, blinking a few times with her question. At this point, he didn't know what he wanted. He'd never held anything against wealth, or those of it, but he'd never imagined himself getting anywhere near as successful as she'd soon suggest. As a kid, his creativity had been a great sense of pride to him. Not just a hobby, but a bleeding passion. Creativity, mingled with ingenuity, sharp eye for solutions and steady hands. He'd had inspirations about making great machines when he grew up. The machines to make things better for people. Fluffy dreams of machines that could help people in their day to day, like reaching tall places, and making tight squeezes. In truth, things that could've helped him, and his, in their exploits... The narrow dreams, of someone who couldn't imagine a life outside of poverty.

But he couldn't do all of that anymore. He'd lost most of those traits. He was thin on ideas. His eyes was weakened by the bright flashes of explosions. Lost one hand, and the other hadn't been steady for years. He wasn't the person she was talking about.
Narrow had been staring at the street in front of him, a thoughtful frown on his face as she spoke, until he felt her hand against his shoulder. He looked down to it for a moment, sighing softly as his eyes slowly met her's. They still had all the life they'd had back then, but none of the innocence. A small smile crept past the thoughtful frown, chuckling silently through his nose with her suggestion he was the smartest one around. He raised his good hand, gently placing it on top of her's, as he looked back down at the cobbles bellow them, in defeat. She thought way too highly of him. She didn't know what he was capable of now. The things he'd done. Compared to many others around, he probably was the Monster some believed him.

He didn't contradict her, or interject, however. He let her continue, looking back up to her, his frown mostly gone, replaced by a tentative demeanor. As she finished, Jacob sighed softly, his fingers gently wrapping around her hand on his shoulder, the strong digits squeezing her's affectionately, before he dropped his hand back into his pocket. He didn't know what to say, and it was obvious on his expression. The way he wore himself in the moment. He looked back up in relief, as she took to continuing on her own. He gave her a comforting smile, and a dismissive shrug on his shoulder, as she apologized, but still didn't interject, letting her explain herself.

He held back a snicker as she suggested her less than savory business, nodding a single time. He'd figured that out, indeed. In his opinion, it was practically impossible to live in this City, be well off, and in good with Police at the same time. Those things just didn't go hand in hand. He was a little sorry to hear, that this was how things were to her now, however. He figured that he'd probably provoked a bit of that, however. Hanging with him and his friends, probably wasn't the best of influences, now that he thought about it.

Jacob looked down to Molly as she approached, a warm smile on his face as he saw her playfully swinging with the lamppost. He leaned an arm against the post above their heads, looking down to her with an affectionate smile. Being this close to her, looking down at her eyes, he wanted nothing more, than to wrap his arms around her and pull her the rest of the way. Hug her close against his body, just to feel her warmth again. Many times, he'd felt it as the sole heat source, and he'd never had warmth in a better way. For a second, his face hardened, as she mentioned being threatened. In a bad situation. Frank Wilcox... He wasn't forgetting that name any time soon.
He shook his head a few times with a laugh as she called Liam a dick, wrapping one of his own arms around the post. He tilted himself forward, swinging with the post as she had, getting back close to her. Like they were on a set of swings, always getting close, but never hit.

"You sure do have a lot going on. I could see why you might want to keep some cards close. Don't worry. You don't have to tell me anything. But, you know I'll always be happy to listen. Your voice is still something to get lost in." He smirked playfully, swinging a little faster with the post, bumping lightly into her if she didn't do the same.
"But, Moe... Really think you're being a bit harsh on Lee, about the whole 'not mentioning I'm alive'. He'd only known for a few days. How often do you meet? Would he've even had a chance to mention? Or, maybe he just wanted to surprise us at that party? I don't know, just. Please don't make me one of the reasons the two of you are shaky?" He asked, smiling with another chuckle. "I mean, if that makes him a dick, what does it make me? I didn't tell either of you I was alive for a month of being home. Didn't... Even tell you that I was alive, for several years." He suggested, his smile hindering slightly, as he looked down.

He looked down for a moment, swinging a bit back and forth with the post, thoughtfully curling his lips into various pouts. He finished with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders a bit.
"I... Thanks, for all the confidence you hold in me. Moe." He started, looking up to her, with a weak smile. "I had a lot of aspirations as a kid. A lot of creativity. Dreams." He aggreed, nodding his head a few times, looking down the street, at a smoking diesel cab, heading their way. "But I'm not a kid anymore, Moe." He stated, looking back to her, slowly swinging with the lamppost again, trying to move her along it, to get between her, and the rushing car, spraying a bit of dirt and water up as it passed. While hardly any of the spray would've ever hit e'm, he instinctually kept her from it, while also moving her a bit further away from any risks. "And things just ain't that simple anymore." He admitted, pouting a bit, looking down again as he shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know. Thank you for the offer, but. I just. Don't think I have that in me anymore. I just. Don't have ideas, as I used to. Haven't even been able to fix this cheap piece of shit." He suggested with a chuckle, raising his mechanical hand, hidden behind its glove. He tightened the fist lightly, as he did so with the other as well, comfortably hidden in its pocket, fighting its shakes. The real reason he doubted himself. "Yeah, again. Don't know, Moe. But, as I said, I'll think about it. For now, though. This? This is something I know. And, something I don't mind so much, for the strange chivalric value of it. I know, I know, how 'Cave-man' of me, but it feels nice to be of value." He chuckled, letting go of the Lamppost, as he tossed aside the sorry remains of his cigarette bud, having sucked it as dry as he could, wasting none.

Part of him wanted to ask about Frank. Who was this Frank Wilcox? And, why was he a threat to her? Why had he threatened her? And where was he, so he could make sure that wouldn't happen again... He didn't, however. Instead, he looked down the street, towards the deeper reaches of the City, looking thoughtful for a moment, before turning his eyes back down to Molly.
"You busy tonight? Or, well. Any other night of the week, really, I've got day shifts all of e'm." He asked, smiling warmly, with a reinvigorated flame. "Wanna find some time to hang out? Heard some of the Nooks customers talking about the play, currently running in the old theatre. Supposed to be interesting. And I'm sure the old place is still just as easy to get into, through the back way." He smirked lightly. "Or, well, if you don't have the shoes for that kind of adventures anymore, maybe just a coffee?" He suggested. His tone almost carried a... Challenge, with it. If her new business life, had taken away all of her lust for adventure, or if there was still some there. If she was still ready to bend the law, to have a fun time. He was sure she could probably afford the tickets, but there was no way he'd want to expect that out of her. Or, take away the chance at an adventure.
 
"Still the back-alley charmer, aren't you Jay?" Molly teased, hoping he couldn't hear her heart, considering how hard and loud it seemed to pound in her chest at his touch. "But don't you go defending Murphy like you always do, he doesn't deserve it. Lee didn't make all the money he did being a nice guy--" Then again, neither did she. "And he's not above taking advantage of a poor, desperate woman in her time of need." Not that anyone would have considered the owner of Molly's Hat Box to be poor or desperate, but Molly herself was still quite put out at the position he'd left her in.

She pouted sharply, crossing her arms over her chest and sticking out her lower lip in the most childish way she could think of, before breaking her composure and allowing a little smirk. "But he's not the only game in town, as much as he would like to be, and I don't have to buy from him, as he'll hopefully remember when his other customers start coming up short when the bill comes due. And maybe I'll forgive him for not saying anything about you, although I don't believe for a minute he didn't know you were alive. Lee's almost as smart as you--don't you dare tell him I said that--and everyone knows he's got one ear to the ground at all times. I can't imagine what it's going to be like when he and Vera get together this week." The woman shuddered visibly. "Every secret in the city is probably going to get uncovered."

Despite her lighthearted tone and casual movements, the blonde was becoming more and more agitated at Jacob's close proximity. It was almost frustrating when he gently shepherded her away from an oncoming cab, but failed to actually take her in his arms and pull her away. Had the years so changed his view of her? In Molly's own opinion, she looked much better now than she had as a skinny little girl in braids and lace, but maybe he didn't like that she had cut her hair so short. Or maybe he didn't like the makeup she wore, considering she'd gone barefaced all the way until college. And she knew he didn't care for her clothing, highlighting the differences in their economic status. Even her expensive perfume might have been a wedge between them, hiding the natural scent of a woman beneath notes of imported jasmine and bergamot.

What am I doing?

They weren't kids anymore. Sure they'd loved each other once, but that was a lifetime ago. What, did she think things were going to pick up exactly where they left off, even though he was missing an arm and claiming ignorance of all his best qualities, while she...she'd become everything he hated, probably. Rich? Sure. Beautiful? Without a doubt (well, okay only a little doubt). But all of the innocence and softness of her youth, even a good portion of her kindness, that was all gone. Shit, the teenaged version of Molly would spoken so disrespectully to a woman like Le'Fleur, at least not to her face. And she wouldn't have cared about impressing anyone worth more than fifty dollars, even if they were a prince. Money meant nothing to the young Miss Fairbairn, and she would have been content to spend the rest of her life tagging after Jacob on his adventures, just to wake him up with a kiss every morning and fuck his brains out every night.

But not anymore. Now, like her father before her, money ruled every aspect of Molly's life, and it seemed like she'd sold Jacob's love to get it. Or had she?

Molly couldn't hide the light that exploded into her eyes when he mentioned the theater. "Yes," she almost shouted, cutting him off after his first question. "I mean, no, I'm not busy." That wasn't exactly true. There was still plenty that needed doing at the Box in preparation for the party on Saturday, but she could pass a lot of that off to her assistant manager and the rest of the staff. All she could think of was that Jacob still wanted her, or at least wanted to spend time with her. And even though every logical part of her was insisting it was a horrible idea to skirt her duties to go galavanting with him around the city again, she just couldn't resist.

"A play sounds great. And before you say one thing about my climbing abilities, Mr. War Hero, I'll have you know I do calisthenics and stretch for an hour every morning, and on Fridays I go down to the 8th Street Athletic Club and swim at least twenty laps. I dare you to go anywhere in this city where I can't follow." It was an old taunt, back from the days when the other kids would try to ditch the rich girl by vanishing into dilapidated building and shadowy alleyways. But it had never stopped Molly then, and it wasn't going to stop her now.

Reaching into her purse, the blonde woman pulled out a business card, then taking Jacob by the wrist pressed it into his hand. In flowing, barely legible faux-gold script, the words "Molly's Hat Shop - Fine Millinery and Haberdashery - 115 48th St, New York" were printed in large letters. "Meet me outside of the shop tonight, say around 8pm? If the old harridan can spare you, of course." It would be just like Le'Fleur to ruin her night by forcing Jacob to stay in and work.

As she shut her purse, Molly caught sight of her pocketwatch, and realized the lateness of the hour. Sighing a little, she released Jacob's hand and stepped towards the corner. "I need to get going, I'll need to stop by the Box to give the orders for the night." And see if Scacco or Lockheart would be coming by before the madam lost her goddamn mind over them. "But I'll see you tonight, won't I?" She tried to hide the note of uncertainty in her voice, but wasn't wholly successful. But it wouldn't be like him to ask her to go someplace and not show up. Other guys maybe, but never Jacob.

Still, she waited for an affirmative answer before daring to hail a cab.
 
"I try." He playfully mused, with a shrug of his shoulders. Jacob snorted lightly, as Molly seemed to suggest he thought Liam was ever a nice guy, to begin with. And he could hardly hold back a short laugh with her suggestion that she was a poor, desperate woman.
"Yeah, that's. Not really attributes I've ever imagined putting on your belt, Moe." He shortly interjected, winking a single time. As she went on about Liam knowing about his condition, he slowly shook his head a few times, snickering as she suggested Liam would ever come sniveling back. Jacob knew that both of his friends were too damn stubborn to do something like that.
"What? Jesus, tell me Liam hasn't got a thing for that little reporter? No, wait... Of course, he does... Red hair, figures. Damn." He laughed lightly, shaking his head a few times. "It was hard enough to keep secrets to Liam, on his own..." He was playful in his voice, obviously having nothing against neither, but there was a tinge of very real worry. He didn't have the best of experience with Reporters, in the war times. Painted it all as this Rosey endeavor, for the sake of good. It'd tricked him and would trick many more innocent boys to go off to war, sacrificing their futures for the pockets of profiteers.

"But, I think you're giving him a tinge too much credit. Or, just grasping at straws, for other reasons to be mad at him, but just business disagreements." Jacob chuckled, looking down with a little hint of sadness lining his face. "Sorry to hear business got wedged between the two of you, though. It's risky, mingling friendships with business. Hope you guys don't take it too far, and'll be able to work it out eventually. Seems a shame, if a bad business transaction ends up ruining an old relationship. Not to mention, would hate to have to plan my days out, in ways to avoid bringing the two of you together..." He suggested, smirking slightly. "I don't like when mommy and daddy's fighting..." Jacob laughed, ready to protect himself from any retaliation. It wasn't the first time he'd referred to Liam and Molly's bickering as 'Marital bouts'.

Jacob raised his brows a bit, in surprise, as she answered his question so quickly, even cutting him off. His face lit up with a soft chuckle, and a warm smile, as he continued to suggest a plan. So, she wasn't opposed to spent time with him. Wasn't above it. Even with the small suggestions, that she was all about business now, she could find time in her schedule, to fool around with him. Have all-new adventures. It had his body fluttering with excitement, a light shiver even running down his spine. Her old taunt caused him to laugh lightly, nodding his head a few times.
"Oho, yeah, sure... Cali... Calisth.. C... That word, is definitely a word... No, I am still absolutely sure, that's a word you just made up back then, to try and impress us uneducated street urchins. I still haven't heard about anyone else, doing Caliethnitics, or whatever you call it." He laughed back playfully, shaking his head a few times.

Jacob looked down to Molly's purse as she brought out her card, raising a brow as she plopped it into his hand. Again, his fingers grasped at the chance to stroke her hand, before she took it away. As she did, he raised the card, narrowing his eyes a bit to better read the fancy lettering, snorting with a short chuckle as he looked the card over.
"This thing looks like it's been more expensive than my coat... You rich folk sure do love your cards." He smiled back up to Molly, nodding a single time with her planned time.
"Eight'll be good. Sounds like it has a show starting at five, and then the late one at nine. Should be able to get there, before that." He pondered, looking back at the street name, preparing to head back towards the Nook. The Theatre wasn't too far from this address, if they put a little pep to their walk. He paused as she questioned his arrival, looking up to her with an affectionate smile.
"Le'Fleur might be a power to be reconned with, but. Even she couldn't keep me from it." He promised with a nod. "See you then, Miss Fairbairn." He winked, before heading towards the Nook, having noticed a man sneaking past him, as they'd been nearing the end of their conversation. He was probably already due for a slap across the wrist, having not been there when the man arrived, but he'd take that in strides. Anything, for even a minute with Molly.

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The rest of the day at the Nook, went on pretty uneventfully. A few rowdy costumers, but no one willing to start a fight, or even hurt the girls. As they day went on, he'd made a few inquiries among the girls, asking if anyone had been to actually see said play. He learned that a few had, and when asked how, they revealed the place was indeed as easy to break in, as it'd used to. He didn't ask about the play itself, wanting to let it be as surprising as possible, though one of the girls had let slip it was a thrilling, almost frightening story of... Something. He'd managed to cut her off in time.

Through his early evening, Jacob had been scowling at himself, having nothing really to wear, but the clothes she'd met him in earlier. He got himself a bath, and a clean pair of pants and underwear, having to stick with the usual shirt and coat. Not that it really mattered, both having been clean that morning, not taking on many scents but that of himself. Not like he'd ever smelled like anything but him. He'd never been able to afford any kind of male beauty or decency products. For a moment, he'd stared at himself in a puddle on his way to the Hat Shop, finding himself painfully... Insufficient... Why was he heading out, to waste a woman like Molly Fairbairn's time? She needed much more than a tramp such as himself. What could he ever hope to give her?

He shrugged off the petty party, moving towards the Hat-shop, arriving about half an hour early. He carried an old, equally ragged shoulder bag with him, seemingly weather from weather conditions, and when shaped against him in the wrong way, a bullet-hole showed. He stopped at the other side of the street, looking over the exterior of the shop, a small smile on his face. He snickered lightly, at how quaint it looked. Quaint, fancy and expensive. For a moment then, he felt a strange sense of... Pride. Proud, and joy, that his old friend. Lover. Had made it into the business world. The Hat-shop itself might not have worked out, but then she'd been resourceful enough to change her formula.

Building up the courage to, he made it across the street, to gaze through the windows of the place. As he walked along, he lingered on a simple, but fashionable top-hat, pouting slightly with a shake of his head. And as his eyes drafted to the price, he made an audible huff, placing a hand on his chest.
"Jesus... Wouldn't even pay that much for something I could actually wear, with any resemblance of dignity..." He chuckled silently to himself, looking around inside the shop for a moment again, taken aback once more, at just how different his and Molly's worlds were.
 
Molly breathed out a sigh of relief at Jacob's reassurance he would be there. With one hand she flagged down a passing dieselcab, and with the other she blew him a kiss. "Until tonight then. See you later soldier!" She winked at him, then clambered into the smoking black vehicle and continued to wave at him with a white gloved hand until the cab disappeared around the corner.

As far as she was concerned, the chugging black box might as well have been an airship soaring through the clouds. He still liked her, maybe even loved her. She couldn't have been happier if Liam and Le'Fleur showed up on her doorstep with ten thousand dollars and a case of fifty-year-old scotch. But the farther away the cab crept, so too did more unwanted thoughts slip into her mind. If he had feelings for her still, what did that mean? Going steady? Maybe even getting hitched? Molly almost laughed at that. No fucking way. Marriage was out of the question for dames like her, unless she wanted to cash out the club and let someone else run it into the ground. After all, what did it get Kate Flanagan over at the Empire Club? A passel of kids and a house down in Florida, and a name no one but Molly seemed to remember.

Maybe it was a moot point anyway. Jacob couldn't love Molly Fairbairn as she was now, he didn't even know her (and that was probably a good thing). He loved the Molly he knew ten years ago, and as the cab pulled up to the hat shop she wasn't sure if she could find that girl again. It never occurred to her that the Jacob she would meet later that night wasn't the Jacob she had known ten years ago either.

She entered the hat shop through the front, where a bored-looking salesgirl at the counter leapt to her feet as though she'd been stuck with a pin. "Miss Fairbairn! You're early!"

Molly raised an eyebrow. "At ease, soldier," she said sardonically, glancing at the front window where the two signal hats were perched. "Listen Sarah, there's a new policy in the store you need to be aware of. You see those two ratty old things up there?" Although it took two or three explanations (Sarah wasn't the sharpest pin in the box), she eventually got the girl to understand the system of when the hats should and should not be removed from the window. "Ask Big Frieda every day, she'll know who's due in and who isn't. And if you're not sure, better take them out when you lock up for the night. Better safe than sorry, right?"

Once she was satisfied that Sarah knew the drill, she continued on to the back of the shop and passed through a door marked Private. On the other side was her office: small, neat, adorned with one or two actually decent hats and a desk and cabinets full of documents that made it seem the shop was a thriving business. There was also a coat closet, jammed full of faded outerware that hadn't seen the outdoors in years. Molly shoved these aside, then walked down a narrow stairway that ended at another door, this one sealed with multiple locks. Pulling her keys out of her purse, she opened each of the latches then stepped through the door into her booze vault, where Louis was doing inventory.

"Afternoon, cap," the dark-haired, green-eyed young man asked in his New Orleans drawl. "Your meeting with the Madame go well?"

"I think so," Molly replied cheerfully, leaning over Louis' thin shoulder to look at his ledgerbook. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "We're that low already?"

"You should be happy, mam'selle. We moved a lot of product over the weekend. We got a shipment coming soon?" Louis gently tugged his silky ponytail free from where it had been trapped beneath Molly's chin. Taking the hint, she stepped away.

"We've got some stuff coming Wednesday from Murphy. I'm working on the rest. Your sister up front?"

"Yes'm. You want I should call Monsieur Claude for some more of his drink? I hear his last batch was quite good, and if we send Roman we can have it by Friday. Otherwise he can't come down here 'till next week."

Molly could've kissed him for that news, even though Louis did not particularly enjoy getting kissed by women. "I'll go ask Frieda right now. Call him either way, just in case. We might be low for a while. Hope you and Jinx are feeling creative. Not too many guys around here willing to drink straight shine."

Louis smiled back at her in a wicked catlike smile that had made him one of the wealthiest bartenders in New York. Even after working together for so many years, it still made even Molly shiver. "We're lucky they don't, mam'selle. Last thing you need is people dyin' in here."

Laughing, Molly left the locker and went out into the main bar area, pausing to wave at Jinx in the meantime. Louis' twin had all of his grace, with three times the tits and only a little more ass. Other than that she might have been his exact double, with the same dark hair and bright eyes that enchanted the people sitting at her bar. And when both of the siblings were at work in the middle of a rush, it was almost hypnotic the way their moves were perfectly coordinated, and a pity most of their customers were too plastered to notice.

Beyond the bar was a large scattering of tables, all deserted at the moment but with chairs neatly pushed in and fresh linens laid across the top. Then came the wide expanse of the dance floor, which would probably see a few swingers tonight, but with the Ted Gill Trio attempting to muddle their way through things tonight it would be far from packed. It was somewhat disconcerting they hadn't arrived yet to start rehearsing, but when they'd played the Box before Molly had been appalled at their shoddy skills, and only hired them a second time because they were dirt cheap. At least this time she'd stipulated in the contract that she wouldn't need to pay if they failed to show up.

The double doors that led from the main room to the lobby were shut, but not locked. Once she walked through them, Molly found her head of security, Big Frieda Rivers, in close conversation with her assistant manager, Stephen Florence. The former was giant of a woman in her late forties, with hips wide as a dieselcab and breasts the size of winter melons. After having birthed five children the big blonde had also acquired a prodigious stomach over the years, but it was her arms like tree trunks and the scowl perpetually on her meaty Scandinavian face that scared most of the riff-raff off. That and the nail-studded bat that she slung over one shoulder while working the door.

Stephen couldn't have been more of a contrast. Small, skinny, with watery blue eyes behind thick glasses and dingy brown hair that was starting to fall out even before he was thirty, he looked like the kind of guy Big Frieda would eat for lunch. But the kid had a mind like a steel trap, and even though working at the Box was the only real job he'd ever had (Molly had hired him straight out of college, trusting her gut that she had a prodigy on her hands), things had never once gone awry when he was manning the decks on his own. The staff even joked that Molly should take more nights off, considering how smoothly Stephen ran things in her place. Well, they were going to get their wish tonight.

"Well ladies and gentlemen, how are things looking tonight?" she asked, striding into their meeting.

"Boss, we're running dangerously low on stuff," Stephen said nervously, shuffling some papers in his hand. "I don't know how we're gonna make it to Wednesday, let alone the weekend, let alone with a party coming up."

"I have it under control. Get us through tonight, that's all. We've got a lead on some other stuff. Frieda, is your husband free to run some errands for us this week? Claude's got some new stock he's looking to unload, but he can't get it here himself until next week. Can we send Roman up to Albany to get it himself?" Roman Rivers, while not technically on Molly's payroll, was usually happy to support his wife's employer outside of his job as a mechanic for one of the bigger dieselcab companies.

"Ya, I tink so," the bouncer replied in her sharp accent. "I ask him tonight, tell you tomorrow. Or if we's quiet like I thinks, I sends Bergen over to ask. You needs more'n one bouncer for a Monday?"

"I'll leave that up to you. No rush on getting back to me though, I won't be here tonight. Steve, you're in charge. Frieda, if Don Scacco or any of his guys--Lockheart, specifically--go up and tell Sarah, okay? We've got a little game we're playing with Madame Le'Fleur and some of her girls. Let them in if they stop in, by the way. You know, assuming they're up to snuff. But if Scacco's in the house, we're supposed to leave a signal in the shop letting them know. They don't want no truck with him or his," Molly explained.

Frieda glowered at the mention of Le'Fleur. "Now Missy, don't you go gettin' tangled with that huora. She no good." Despite her fearsome looks, Frieda had always looked at Molly as something of a daughter, even before she had started working for her. Indeed, the two had once been neighbors, and had struck up an unlikely friendship over the years. Of course, the big viking was still a monster if faced with one of her loved one's enemies, and it was that hulking violence that had led Molly to hire the woman as her head bouncer, with three of her five children as additional security when needed.

"She good enough to help me find some more suppliers," Molly shot back. "I'm going to go check them out tomorrow, so I might be late getting in. Stephen, no nights off for you this week, got it? Take all next week if you want, but I need you right now."

"O-of course ma'am," the lad stammered. "Anything you like."

It only took another fifteen minutes or so to settle the rest of the business for the night, and once she was satisfied things would be fine without her, Molly went up the back stairs that opened up in the alley behind the shop. This was the main entrance to the speakeasy used by patrons, but considering the club didn't open for another hour yet she made sure to lock the door behind her, then it was into another cab and back to her apartment to change.

Molly knew better than to go all out for Jacob. For one it wasn't practical, and for two she didn't want him to see her as the glitzy club owner he'd spoken with on the previous two encounters. So instead of a dress she opted for a pair of loose, high waisted black trousers she only ever wore when golfing, or when she was going out to the farm and wanted to scandalize her stepmother. Above that was a loose white blouse, unbuttoned enough to expose her smooth white décolletage, and on a whim she decided to wear a softer, less constricting bra that didn't flatten her breasts as much as her usual ones did. For jewelry, she opted only for a pair of pearl earrings, not wanting to tempt fate with a long string around her neck. Then it was a quick touch-up of her makeup (keeping it as subtle and natural as possible) and a matching blue wool coat on her back and cloche on her head to hide her bright hair, and she was off again.

It was closing time at the shop by the time she got there, and as she walked through the door she saw Sarah impatiently tapping her foot as one last patron poked his head around the wares. Unable to hide her smile, Molly crept up behind Jacob and leaned slightly against his arm. "Find something you like, mister?" Across the room, Sarah stared with her jaw on the floor at her boss' casual, even flirtatious remark, but with one pointed look of the owner's blue eyes she quickly shut her mouth and pretended to be busy fiddling with the catalogues.

"So what do you think? Are you gonna by a hat that absolutely does not work for you, or are we gonna get out of here?"
 
Jacob had definitely noticed the young woman inside of the shop, doing his best once again, to keep his scars hidden. Again, he managed admirably, whilst Molly wasn't around. He always seemed to fail it, when she was. Forgetting his insecurity, as he did most of them, whenever he looked into her eyes. Like the reminder, she was of an easier time, made him completely forget what the last ten years had done to him.
He'd given Sarah a wave, as his eyes had stopped seeming quite as interested in the hats, hoping she got the hint, that she didn't need to wait around for him. Didn't seem to help, though, the dutiful clerk remaining at her post, probably in case he changed his mind. There was no way he would. He'd have to sell more than his soul, to afford most of the hats on display...

Luckily, Jacob'd noticed Molly sneaking about before she came up to him, or she might've caught him twitching once again. He kept looking at the displays as she approached, a wide smirk spreading as he laughed at her suggestion. His lips puted slightly, nodding a few times as his arm slid up Molly's side, wrapping around her waist as he pointed up towards one of the bonnets on display.
"Oh, yes, I've taken a particular fancy to that lovely, wide-capped bonnet over yonder, with the flower on top. The one that'd fit the top of my fat head, about as well as any other women's attire would. And, which I would have to rob several banks, to ever have any hopes of affording..." He laughed playfully, shaking his head as he looked back down to Molly, giving her an affectionate squeeze as a greeting hug. "Jesus, is all women's attire that expensive? If so, please, don't ever expect me to get you clothes on future birthdays, or I'll have to get my burglary game touched up." He chuckled with a grin, finally stepping away from the windows, preparing to head off down the street.

If Molly was content with the closure, Jacob kept his arm warmly tugged around the back of her waist, as they headed on down the street. If it ever became uncomfortable, and she needed some distance, he'd immediately offer his arm instead. His eyes looked down her form for a moment, an affectionate smile spreading along his lips.
"How you manage to make any outfit look good, Moe, is still just as surprising, as when we were kids... How, and why ever did you get stuck with a kid like me, back when I had even less of a wardrobe?" He laughed softly, bumping into her as they continued down the cobbled streets. Even back then, with his childhood innocence, not a day went by, that he didn't wonder why she spend so much time with him. He never questioned it. Never dared to, afraid it might make her actually think about it. He'd let the days swim by, and swim they had. Weeks drowned away, like they were minutes. Nothing like war, where ten years had felt like an entire lifetime. Like it would suck the life out of him. No, it was almost a shame that, with Molly, time flew past far too quickly.

As they wandered down the street, Jacob suddenly found himself distracted by a poster, plasted on a wall, besides a shop.
"Ah. A 'Grand Theodora' poster. This must be what they're playing..." He muttered, seeing the poster belong to the oldest Theatre in town: 'The Grand Theodora Theatre'. It had lost some popularity to the larger, fancier Theatres popping up like the Belasco and Helen Hayes theatres, but it was still kicking. The artistic poster displayed a depiction of a Tomb-stone, with a woman on a bed bellow, and a man shrouded in darkness, his coat formed like black wings above her. In the background, clouds gave way to a figure in the dark stary night, in the shape of a bat with horns. 'Frank Langella, in the EDWARD GOREY production of DRACULA', the poster wrote on the Tomb Stone, as well as the theatre and street name the play was currently taking place.
Jacob paused in front of the poster, pouting his lips lightly, as he raised a brow.
"Hmh. Dracula? Must be horror then, huh? Still sure you're up for a play tonight?" He suggested with a smirk, once again playfully challenging tone to his voice, prepare to lead them further down the way.


Nearing the Theatre, Jacob turned them down an old street, Molly might've forgotten, but would definitely recognize. A winding street, running it's passengers down back alleys behind both the Theatre, and a few other gaudy establishments, Jacob had broken them into as kids. Jacob had always done his best to entertain Molly, and part of him thought getting into such establishments was necessary. He couldn't keep her entertained sorely with his mechanical prowess, and witty, yet shy attitude, surely.
Heading down the street, they found their way to the back of the Theatre, Jacob's eyes gazing up the side of the wall, lips curling a smirk. The old Theatre still carried the same set of stairs on it's back, used as an exit for the people who worked on the cat-walks.

"Guess they never learned..." He muttered, looking to Molly with a smile. Still, it was designed to keep people from simply climbing it, without bringing some equipment. The last bit of balcony held no stairway down to the cobbled ground, but instead a ladder that could be pulled down. This had never hindered Jacob as a child, and would as an adult either. If Molly had kept close to him, he finally let go of her, heading over to a small outcropping bit of wall, looking up its side. It still had the same holes in the tiles, perfect to get a bit of footing, as well as a grip, just far enough to leap back to the bottom balcony.

He licked his lips, clicking them a single time, before rushing towards the wall, never second-guessing. He hopped up to the first footing and used it to lead his outstretched arms to the first propper grip possible. He climbed up a bit, enough to have some surer footing in another hole and look back at the balcony. He used the footing to set off backward, and up, far enough to grab onto the bottom of the balcony, the momentum leaving him swinging a bit from his arms, laughing almost boisterously. His bright eyes looked down to Molly, with an almost childlike joy, as he grinned.
"Still got it, it seems. Unsurprisingly, a lot easier than it used to be, as a scrawny, underfed urchin." He chuckled, as he started monkeying his way on the bottom of the balcony, it's bars providing ample support. Reaching the ladder he'd used to pull down for Molly when they were children, he reached out his good hand, to yank at the bottom of it. A clanging, made it clear he wasn't going to get anywhere like that. He yanked a few more times, before looking up the ladder, noticing a lock.

"Hmf... Okay, apparently old proprietors do learn..." He muttered in disapointment, looking down to Molly, the muscles of his arms starting to straing lightly, from keeping his weight up. He could keep it up for much longer, especially when just hanging, but it'd start taking a strain on his fingers soon. "Well... Guess I am all the ladder you'll be having today, Miss Fairbairn." He chuckled playfully, legs dangling slightly. The balcony wasn't much higher, than Molly would be able to reach his calves, and get a decent grip, with a little jump. "Guess it's time to prove that Caletesies, and swimming laps, did you any good." He smirked, tapping his shoes gently together, as he let go of the balcony with his good hand, his mechanical arm locking up with a low puff. Now, he could hang there for hours. There were benefits to his prosthetic, for sure. His other arm, he reached down his hand, ready to take her's, if she'd need it on her ascend. If she was even ready to try something like this.
 
A familiar feeling of warmth washed over Molly's body when Jacob smiled and put his arm around her. This was the man she remembered. Not shy (with her, anyway), still self-deprecating but good-natured in the process, and wonderfully ignorant of the stupid frivolities of the rich. "Well if it's any comfort, we sell maybe one of those a month. The rest we burn around tax season so there's no question about inventory. It all works out though, I buy them dirt cheap from a factory up in Chinatown. We just add a little ribbon or embroidery then mark them up five or six times." She pointed at the wide-brimmed straw hat had caught his eye. "If you like that, I can get four of them for you for a dollar. You'll have to do your own decorating though."

"You can go ahead and lock up, Sarah, we'll be heading out now," Molly instructed the shop girl. "Could you get me a flower first though? For the gentleman?"

"For...for him?" Sarah asked confusedly, looking Jacob over with more than a little criticism in her gaze. But Molly's frown quickly sent her scampering into the back, and when she re-emerged she was holding a small white silk rose. Without a word, the proprietress took the adornment and tucked in the pocket of Jacob's shirt.

"If you ever want to see my real business, just make sure you bring that with you. It'll get you in the door, no questions asked, and as long as you tip the bartenders for their trouble they'll make sure you drink for free as well. You're a VIP now," she smiled. "And if you ever want to get me anything for my birthday, just swing by for a dance and I'll be a happy girl."

She was about to reach for his hand, but he did one better and kept his arm around her waist as they stepped into the chilly evening. Even if it hadn't been for the cold Molly would have been more than grateful for his touch, and the look as he glanced down at her (though she suspected she had the low-cut blouse to thank for that). "Well, it's true I didn't start running with you for this thing," she admitted, playfully flicking at his coat. "Thank God you're good with your hands and have a great personality. And...that mug of yours ain't so bad either." Looking up at his face, she couldn't ignore the scars, but she didn't find them unpleasant to look at, now that she was getting used to them. It was sort of like looking at a mask, but knowing the person underneath. The more she looked, the easier they were to ignore.

What was more unsettling was the graphically illustrated poster for the play, but at Jacob's insinuation it would be too much for her Molly only tossed her head. "Please, I deal with scarier things than vampires on a daily basis. Your boss, for example. You sure she won't mind you playing hooky?" she asked, following him down an alley she hadn't traversed in years. "What if a fox gets in the henhouse?"

The old staircase in the back looked exactly the way she remembered. As a wild little urban nymph she had easily learned to scale such obstacles, either by climbing on stacked boxes or Jacob's shoulders. Now the alley was more barren, with debris and garbage collected on a regular basis and burned in the refineries outside of the city for energy. It wouldn't be nearly as easy as when they were kids, and although they were taller now the bottom of the ladder was still well out of reach. For Molly, at least. Jacob had no trouble finding the rough spots in the wall and scampering up the side like a spider with astonishing speed, leaving the woman aghast on the ground.

"How in the world...? Well clearly you're going to have to lose more than an arm to slow down," she remarked, glancing at the wall to see if she would be able to manage such a path. Molly had to admit, she feared what the climb would do to her manicure, or if her heeled boots would even be able to find register in the nigh-invisible nooks and crannies. It was with a sigh of relief that she realized Jacob had another idea in mind.

"I'll take it," she replied, approaching him with a scrutinizing gaze to figure out the distance between him and herself. Despite the cold, she removed her coat, balled it up, then tossed it with all her might, only managing to land it on the railing of the stair by pure luck. Freed of that burden, she positioned herself directly below him. Even with her arm upraised, there was still more than a foot of distance between them. However, the gap didn't seem to bother her too much. "It's pronounced cal-iss-then-icks," Molly corrected. "You know, toe-touches, deep knee bends..." she crouched down low, grateful she'd opted for pants instead of the tight skirt she'd been considering. "And jumping jacks."

She leapt up with a surprising amount of power, easily catching at his hand with both of hers. "Hopefully all that exercise hasn't made me too heavy?" she asked, keeping one hand locked in his while the other reached for the edge of the platform.
 
Jacob raised a brow, as the young woman mentioned they'd burn the excess hats. Seemed a terrible waste. A world of excess, for sure. Then as she got onto price, he raised both brows, huffing with a chuckle.
"That so? Oh, why I'll take ten then... Stitch e'm all together, and make myself a new cloak, and still be able to afford a piece of bread for lunch!" He laughed lightly, looking to Sarah as she was addressed. Her reaction had Jacob rolling his neck lightly, hiding the scarred side of his face, as well as his eyes, looking down to the ground for a moment. Those were the looks that he was used to, and usually tried to avoid. One would think, getting used to them, had them hurt less. It didn't. Stung just as well, every time, even though he'd been told before, that most people would drop their judgement, and enjoy his company, if only he talked to them. Not a big chance of that happening, though.

He looked down to the flower when it arrived, and Molly tugged it into his pocket. He raised a brow, reaching a hand for it to turn it slightly, then look back to Molly's eyes. He raised his brows, as she suggested he'd drink for free, an affectionate smile spreading across his face as he chuckled.
"You really want to sell me on your place, don't you? I'm beginning to think, that you really do enjoy my company. But... That can't be right?" He suggested with a playful smile, as they started down the street, after proudly adjuting the flower in his pocket.
And she was selling it well. His fear, and reluctance was dwindling. Perhaps, he could enjoy himself such a place. He had a feeling it'd be hard to make friends in such a place, however. So, if he ever did show up, there might just be Molly to converse with, and surely she had other things to tend to as well. That still had him hesitating at the idea.

Jacob's smile lit up with her compliment, looking forward as he pouted, nodding his head a few times.
"Well, 'wasn't bad', I'm sure you mean. What's left of it, leaves something to be desired." He suggested with her compliment of his face, looking to the street in front of them, hugging Molly a bit closer with a breeze. His eyes turned back down to her's, meeting if she let them. "But. You still decided to join me tonight. Guess I earn a lot of points with that personality, huh?" He snickered a single time, stroking Molly side as they passed the poster.

He had to pout and nod his head from side to side with her joke about Le'Fleur, grinning.
"Fair point." He agreed in a mutter, shrugging his shoulders. "Eh, I had the day shift, to start off with. Still learning the ropes, after all. She has two men from around six, throughout the night. And they don't exactly look like boy-scouts either." He chuckled. "Even so. I wasn't going to miss out on an evening with you. I'm sure you're a busy woman, I can't expect to always get a yes, before I even suggest a place and time." He was happy to have a job, but not adamant enough about it, that he was going to miss out on chances like these. Chances to spend time with Molly. Another girl? Perhaps. But never Molly.


Jacob smiled with Molly's remark, as he checked at the ladder, and ultimately gave up. He looked back down to her holding out his arm, ready to help pull her up, after grabbing at his feet. He was about to make another joke, and pronounce the activity wrong again, when she surprised him by leaping all the way to his hand. He blinked, fingers quick to grasp at her one of her's, as he chuckled.
"Pfff, sure hasn't made you any lighter..." He suggested sarcastically, as he pretended to strain himself, far more than he actually did, lifting her the last bit for her to be able to reach the platform. His muscles did have to strain a bit, carrying anything by one arm would, but he'd had far, far worse. Not to mention, Molly wasn't one to be toddled, quick to grab onto the platform, and hold her own. "Toe touches and knee bends, hm? Cal-icecycles sounds more and more intriguing." He suggested playfully, letting Molly climb up the lowest balcony. He kept an arm close behind her, ready to give her support if she seemed like she needed it, and grab onto her if she lost her grip. His eyes spent a few seconds, glancing at his past lover's rear as it climbed past his face, blinking a few times as he bit at his gums, hoping she was preoccupied enough from climbing to notice his short stare. He remembered more than one occasion, that he'd let her climb first, to give him chances at free glances, when they were starting to fall for more than each other's personalities. Cheap. Maybe a bit inappropriate? But, definitely not unnatural... Urchins didn't come up with 'Ladies First'.

With Molly onto the balcony, Jacob followed suit, hopping over the fence quietly, adjusting his shoulder bag as he looked up.
"Hope they haven't gotten wiser up there as well..." He mumbled lightly, looking back into his bag, shuffling around it as he started up the stairways. It was quite a few stairs to the top, giving him enough time to find his bobby-pins. The door hadn't always been locked in the past, but he brought them, just in case. And, as they reached the final step, and pulled the handle, it was deemed unnecessary.

Stepping out onto the first bit of the cat-walks, a rush of memories ran over him again. It felt like so many times, that they'd snuck out onto those cat-walks, to watch plays, Orchestral concerts. He even remembered an Opera, that he recalled being... Less than overly thrilled by.
Jacob let Molly join him, as he kept his head low, and walked silently along the steel floor of the cat-walks. After a few turns, they could see along the long middle cat-walk, leading to the spot they'd used so many times in the past. Right between the large lights, used by the Light-operators. They used their own cat-walks on each end, and the middle catwalk was usually completely dark, making it easy enough to walk along without being seen. Maybe a bit harder for two adults, but neither scared easily from a challenge, and the operators didn't have the lights on yet.

Getting to their usual spot, Jacob looked over it, realizing their usual seating, on pure steel. Instead, his eyes looked down the inner sides of the Theatre, and over the chatting people, already getting ready at their seats. He knew that he'd brought his new toy, for a good reason.
"Want to see if we can't get some better seats this time?" He whispered, nodding down towards the booths along the sides. Most were still empty, and he was hoping the one nearest the end of the catwalk would remain so. He sat down near the edge of the railing, letting his feet dangle out the edge, as he looked back inside his bag. After revealing something to himself inside, he reached for his mechanical arm, removing his glove. His fingers flexed slightly, as he rolled up his sleeve, revealing that the mechanical part reached, at the very least, halfway up his lower arm. He turned a few pins and pressed a button, opening a panel on his lower arm. Inside, he pressed another few doo-dads, before grabbing onto his hand, as his fingers went limp. With a twist, there was a silent pump of steam, as the hand detached from his arm.

"The Military gave me a few... Attachments, with the arm. Luckily, I only had to pay for the real hand. Probably... Because I was supposed to give the others back when I was discharged... Oops." He admitted, putting away one mechanical hand, to pick out another from his bag. This one had a slightly extended wrist, making it look a little abnormal on his arm as he put it onto the rest of his arm with a twist, and another little whine of air. After a few seconds, he could start flexing his fingers, as the hand turned a single time, and he looked up towards the ceiling, above them. A thick metal beam extended just above them, and one of the booths, which would almost allow them to extend themselves straight inside the little balcony booth. It was some of the most expensive seats in the Theatre, probably rarely taken, but by royalties. There were also cheaper ones, but that one would be the easiest to get to.

Jacob stood back up, shaking his arm slightly, as he looked back and forth between the booths for the Light-operators. The one that was around, seemed distracted by something else, and the noises bellow was starting to grow, as more and more people started showing up. Jacob raised his arm, pointing it above the metal beam, before a slightly louder pump came from it, and the hand shot off.
Swinging over the beam, it dangled down the other side, only barely missing the wire on the other side. He pulled a bit at the metal wire, making the hand swing a bit more, until it finally got close, and the fingers snapped shut with the signal sent through the wire itself. Jacob smiled, tugging hard at the wire, showing him what was already obvious, that the beam would hold. He wasn't taking any chances, if he was going to lift the both of them down.

Jacob stepped over the railing, to the other side, before looking to Molly with a warm, challenging smile.
"Can I give you a lift?" He snickered silently. If Molly took the invitation, and climbed against him, he guided her arms around his neck, before wrapping his own, free arm around her waist. Slowly, he let them drop backwards, as a low spinning sound came from the arm. The wire slowly descended them towards the balcony, as Jacob gave them a gentle swing. It would've been a huge risk, had the room not been so dark, but still there was the potential to be spotted, so he wasted no time. With a gentle swing, he lowered them the rest of the way onto the balcony, landing them safely in the booth.
"Voula... Best seats in the house." Jacob snickered, looking down to Molly.
 
"I guess I see how none of them French girls slapped a manacle on you," Molly remarked as he lifted her up to the landing. "With manners like that, I'd send you packing back to the states too." When she got to her feet, she thought she saw her companion sneaking a glance at her ass, and although she didn't say anything about it her smile grew ever so slightly. I knew pants were a good idea she commended herself, pulling her coat back on and sadly obscuring the view from the man beside her. Once they were up on the roof, she let out a low whistle as she took a slow look around the pigeon-covered platform where they'd spent so many of their nights as kids.

"Gosh, I haven't been up here in forever. More used to going in the front doors these days I guess," she laughed, following Jacob to the door. "You know, it's funny. Martha used to drag us to plays all the time when we were kids, but none of the really good ones, you know? Just different morality tales, where the women all acted like saints and if the men were wicked, they usually died at the end so the heroine could go off and marry some wet-blanket of a fella who wouldn't say Boo to a goose. But remember that time we saw Angel of Despair? And The Sea Bandit, where it really looked like they had a ship on the ocean? And Wagner...oh shut up, I know you hated it. But Tristan and Isolde..." Molly let out a nostalgic sigh. "Somehow it's just not the same watching it from the front row with the Rockefeller and Van der Bilt set, though, you know?"

Despite it having been more than ten years since the pair last wandered the cavernous catwalks of the theater, both seemed to know exactly where they were headed. But while Molly was sure their destination was for the old nook directly over the wings of the stage (not the best seat in the house, but great for seeing the actors' faces and hearing their lines), she was surprised to see Jacob stop and look towards the boxes along the sides of the theater. "Are you nuts? Even I can't afford seats like that. Besides, what if they're taken?" Though it seemed unlikely. Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays...those were the night for the theater in New York. Mondays, not so much. Still it would be risky, even for a pair of experienced break-and-enterers, to try to sneak into those seats without being seen by other members of the audience.

Then again, there was always the chance the other theater-goers might assume it was just part of the show. In either case, when she saw Jacob pulling his trick with the detachable hand of his metal arm, Molly knew she wouldn't be able to resist the challenge. And if she needed any further convincing, it was just at that point that the house lights began to dim in preparation for the show. There was hardly any chance they would be seen.

"You're insane, you know that?" she said gently, wrapping her arms around his neck as he prepared to drop them both into the box. "How would you have managed this if you didn't get your arm blown off?"

With her body pressed so close to his, more and more memories were beginning to flood her mind. There was a new hardness to him of course (and as the cable swung them downward she really was grateful for his metal parts, unusual as they might have been). But she had slept countless nights with her head pillowed on his chest, and even now her instinct was to wrap her graceful dancer's legs around his waist and pull him even closer into her. She was grateful for the almost complete darkness that had descended over the theater by the time they landed in the box, considering it hid the violent blush on her cheeks.

If he had been another man, Molly would have just said "fuck it" and kissed him right then and there, but Jacob wasn't another man. She had loved him with all her heart, and probably still did with a pretty good fraction of it, although she was hestitent to admit that fact at the moment. When they were kids though, Jacob could've had any fast girl he wanted, and with his kind manner and handsome face, Molly knew there were plenty of girls willing to kiss him without waiting to be asked. He hadn't looked at those girls the way he looked at her though, and it was a point of pride for her at the time that she was Jacob's girl, and everything she'd ever done with a guy she'd only done with him, never even dreaming about looking at anyone else no matter what Ivy League rich boy her parents threw at her. And you couldn't be "fast" if you were just with one guy, everyone knew that, so Molly's reputation was safe in that respect, at least when it came to her peers.

Not anymore though. She still wondered what Jacob would think of her if he knew what she had done, knew what she was still willing to do to get her way. Would he still look at her the way he did now, like some princess in a castle who could never be touched by the commoners below her? Somehow, Molly didn't think so.

So she didn't kiss him. Didn't even keep her arms around him once her feet were firmly on the ground. Instead, she sat down in one of the plush seats (still keeping her coat on in case she needed to make a hasty exit), then offered him another teasing smile. "So, you bring any popcorn?"
 
Jacob caught his eyes at their glancing, just as Molly questioned his manners, only causing him to smirk and snicker lightly to himself. She was probably right on that regard. Manners wasn't something he'd been bred to, but something that'd come naturally. Meaning, it could be crude, but of all people, his current companion knew that it was always light-hearted, and loving. Besides, in suggesting Molly had gotten heavier, wasn't entirely false, but the ways in which she'd gotten it? The areas in which she'd grown? Jacob sure wouldn't complain, and she had nothing to be embarrassed about either.

"And yet, you're here with me, breaking in through the top, rather than spending your well-earned money on the door? Still just as much a risk-taker, as I left you." Jacob smirked, preparing himself at the door. He laughed along with Molly's reminiscing, On more than one occasion remembering her complaining about her Mother's reservations about plays. How one of their first times breaking in, had been because she'd complained not getting to see something. It'd been his first time ever experiencing a play, and he'd been completely enchanted by it. Maybe not the best company for her. But that'd changed, the more they'd gone. Sitting with Molly in his arms, using each other for warmth. Moments like those had definitely brought them closer.

Jacob scoffed playfully at her remark about Tristan and Isolde, focusing on the lock as he picked it, shaking his head a few times.
"I can admit now, that the only reason I went to watch that performance, more than once, was because I liked the warm, fuzzy mood that it put you in, Moe." He admitted, looking up to her with a playful little smile. "I was always more for the excitement and fighting. But, I knew you had a soft heart for Romance. Those were always a winner if I wanted to surprise you. And... I seem to remember, looking just as much into each other's eyes, as the actual plays? So... Guess I was on to something." He smiled, looking for Molly's eyes, just for a moment, before focusing on the lock once more, finally getting it loose.

Jacob figured, deep down, there was a reason he'd chosen this as their destination for tonight, rather than anything else. Those memories, that she was reminiscing of, was some that he held most fondly. Sitting close together, getting lost in the love on stage, only to find it closer in each other. Even so, the romance they'd seen on stage, had never compared to that between them. Not to him. Sure, there were plays of the Pauper, falling for the rich, but that isn't the only thing that defined his love for her. He'd never longed for anything her world had to offer. For any of its riches, or creature comforts. She was the only thing, he'd ever admired from the world that she came from. The only true Diamond, in High-Class society.


Jacob raised a brow, as Molly suggested that she couldn't afford such seats. The excitement only pumped faster, at that prospect. To give her something, even a Fairbairn couldn't afford? The world of wealth was a strange thing. Never could he imagine affording the things the Fairbairns could, and now he learned of something she couldn't. And it was right there, within their grasp. He hardly even registered the worry, that the seat might be taken, far too excited at the idea of just having them.
Snickering as she stepped up to him, his body immediately grew warmer, as she wrapped her arms around him. He had to catch himself for a second, to not sigh too heavily with the comfort of her proximity, as he wrapped his other arm around her waist. His fingers took a gentle, but firm grip of her waist, just above her rear. Memories of stroking further, feeling the soft, exposed flesh beneath, made it hard not to shiver, but he managed to contain himself, even as their closure helped to heat him up even more.

"Learning that I could give you something, a Fairbairn couldn't afford? Think I would've been stubborn enough, to find a way..." Jacob smirked lightly with her comment about his arm. "And, hey. You're the one trusting the insane person... What does that make you?" He smiled, almost lovingly, as he let them drop backwards, dangling smoothly from the wire, as his grip around her tightened, pulling their bodies even closer in a warm embrace.
As he did, her legs wrapped around him again, and even more memories seemed to flood across his mind. Memories of easier times. When comfort, had been found in love, rather than wealth and riches. When it was right there, in Molly's presence. When being around her, could only ever lift him up, never tear him down, as he'd almost let it the other day. It was definitely easier times, but had it changed as much as he'd feared? Had they really changed so much, that they might never find that flame again?

Jacob couldn't stop himself, almost out of instinct, stroking Molly's side with his thumb, as they held each other close in a tight embrace. She was soft as she remembered. So small, against his tall frame. He'd always been tall, but his Military training had made him hard. 'Though', as they would say in there. But now, he didn't feel it. Now, he felt weak. Small. He wanted desperately to lean down, and kiss the woman of his dreams head. Give her more than simple hints, that he still nurtured a place in his heart for her. But in such an opportune moment, he couldn't. Couldn't find the strength to express his emotions. It was so much harder to do, than expressing strength. War, suddenly became such a simple concept, compared to the whims of love...

Landing in the booth, it was more than a little disappointing, to have Molly step loose from his grip. Unwilling to let go entirely, without action, his hand stroked along her back, as she stepped towards the seats. His eyes followed her wander, a melancholic yet affectionate smile on his lips before he turned his attention towards his hand. He stretched his arm over the edge of the balcony, as his fingers let go of the wire, and it started whirling back in. He made sure to move his arm, so that the hand did not slam against the balcony's edge, as he heard Molly from behind him. He looked back with a chuckle, before looking down at the audience bellow, hand still dangling from a bit of wire, like a fishhook.
"Hmm... I could see, if I couldn't fish some for us?" He suggested, sarcastically, not exactly ready to take that kind of risk, instead stepping back from the edge, attaching his hand back on his arm as he looked around the private booth.

Meant for more than two, there were several excess seats. Jacob took one of them, as some music started playing, and the show was about to start. He lodged the chair against the booth's door, so that the handle could not turn properly, giving them a few minutes of time, before anyone could distract them.
Returning to the seats, Jacob sat down to Molly's left, keeping his real arm close to her, rather than the slightly elongated mutant. Getting comfortable into his seat, Jacob pouted lightly, raising his brows.
"Hmh. This... Is the most comfort I've ever enjoyed. Hells, how do you wealthy folk not always fall asleep in your seats?" He questioned, leaning back in the chair, with a comfortable sigh. A grin played along his lips, pouting with a shrug. "Well. Guess there was that car we 'borrowed' from the Yales, for one night? But. Guess I wasn't much marvelling at the car's comfort, as other things." He suggested in a whisper, eyes on the stage. A beautiful night's sky, on a cliff overlooking the sea. Foggy windows. Sweaty chests. Heated kisses. Yes, it definitely wasn't the car's seats, he remembered from that night...


As the show started, Jacob grew mostly silent. He did not mind chatting during a show, but only about the show itself. As a rendition of Dracula, it held must intrigue and played heavy on notes of seduction. The story of the poor victim, Lucy Seward, being seduced and transformed into a Monster at Count Dracula's will, and then the fight against his evil influences, and powers, by the 'pure' Religious folk of Van Helsing and Lucy's fiancée John Harker. It was an interesting show to draw symbolism from. How a man could come in, and 'corrupt' a woman with such impure thoughts as infidelity. Or, how a man could 'seduce' a woman of stature, and guide her down a different path. Perhaps down a path, not lined with the wealth and prestige her parents expected her to follow? Perhaps the point of the show, was a warning. A warning, to be wary of your daughters, and not let them stray from the path? Jacob would eventually shake his head at himself, for thinking too deeply into the play, near its end.

During the play, Jacob did not prove to be the impenetrable wall, he might seem to be. On more than one occasion, as the horror show on stage jumped at opportunities to scare its audience, Jacob jumped lightly with it, snickering as it was over. He did not try to pretend, the little shocks didn't affect him. One time, as a loud noise brought forth smoke in front of Dracula, as he turned to a bat and flew away, Jacob even looked away a bit, laughing silently with himself as he shook his head. Should Molly seek his comfort as the play went on, he'd be happy to give it, wrapping an arm over her shoulders, inviting her in to be scared along his side, drawing just as much comfort from her, as she might from him.
 
"Don't you dare!" Molly laughed at his offer to "fish" up some popcorn. Her hand shot forward like a snake, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into the seat. "We went through all the trouble to get in here, the last thing we need is you getting us thrown out. Now sit down and behave." There was a note of mock warning in her voice, but a little bit of real concern in her eyes. What in the world would people think if she, Molly Fairbairn, got caught sneaking into the goddamn Theodora, like some poor kid? God forbid Vera ever found out, she'd be the laughingstock of Fifth Avenue in two days flat.

For a moment, she seriously considered excusing herself to go to the restroom, then just sneaking out the back and hopping a cab back to the club as though nothing had happened. In fact, she turned to look at Jacob and tell him just that...but stopped when she saw his face. As he leaned back in the chair, reveling in its comfort, he looked so peaceful and happy, and Molly knew damn well the seats weren't that great. The same yearning that had pulled at her chest all evening tugged her particularly hard as she saw that same artless little-boy smile she knew so well, though he did somewhat break the spell by bringing up the car they'd once stolen.

Molly's body relaxed visibly, and she turned to look back at the stage, still unable to hide the grin he'd evoked from her. "At least I figured out what I needed to do to get you to stop looking at the damn engine for five minutes. I gotta say though, I was sure I was going to have to strip completely naked in that alley to get your attention, you were so fixated on that carburetor, or whatever it was..."

As the entr'acte swelled, the conversation died down in the box somewhat, although the blonde found it difficult to focus on the story with Jacob so near to her. More than once her blue eyes were fixated on his profile rather than the actors onstage, trying to gauge her companion's interest in the play. But when she did notice, she realized with a shiver how much the man playing Dracula reminded her of Mr. Liu on the one occasion she had met him, what with his foreign ways, strange yet intriguing clothing, and seductive offers of fortune and an easy life. I should wire Sammy. The thought came to Molly unbidden. Wire Sam what? Don't come back to NY stop Reconciled with ex beau stop No hard feelings stop. Yeah, he would take that well.

She tried instead to focus on the girl playing Lucy. Rather than seeing herself in such a role (though she would later admit to seeing certain parallels), the way the actress played the whimpering, simpering little maiden reminded her of the girl she'd seen at Le'Fleur's earlier that day--the one who'd answered the door. Poor kid, she had no idea what she was getting into. Sure, some of the guys around here were trying to keep her out of trouble: her drippy fiancé, the amusing but unattractive cowboy, the old college fuddy-duddy talking about bloodsucking fiends. But what were they compared to the foreign glamor of Dracula himself? Poor kid...it was like watching a train wreck.

All in all though, it was a good production. The costumes were gorgeous (if she'd come in the legal way, Molly would have insisted on going backstage to speak with the designer), the set pieces beautifully painted, and the effects quite astounding. On more than one occasion she found herself gripping at Jacob's arm, though she was quick to retract her hand whenever she realized she had done it. It was just a play after all, and her reactions were more surprise than fear. How could she be afraid, when she knew the real monsters were all outside the theater, and they weren't going to be driven off with garlic and a stake through the heart.

When the lights finally rose, Molly finally looked back at Jacob with a sheepish grin on her face. "Gosh, guess I need to go to the theater more often. I'm so used to going to the moving-picture shows these days, you know? And I mean, those are great--I actually saw this as a movie with that Italian fella, Lino Serafin? And Katherine Fox was the girl, she was fantastic. She could act circles around that bimbo down there, but I guess she's making movies out in California now; they all are. But she came into the Box one night a couple years ago, and actress or not...what a bitch. I mean she's brilliant, but my God does she know it! Anyways though," she blushed slightly, realizing she was babbling.

"That was really something, Jay. Thanks for bringing me here." For one brief moment, she leaned over and brushed her lips against his cheek. But before he could respond she rose to her feet, turning her back to him and putting her hands on her hips as she turned to look out at the audience. "But now the question is, how the hell do we get out without being seen?"
 
Jacob laughed as he was pulled back from the edge, holding his free hand up in defeat.
"Aalright, alright. No snacks, then. We've managed an entire play without, before. I'm sure we will tonight." He snickered, having his seat by her side, after having placed the chair in the way of the door. "Gotta watch my figure, anyway..." He said in a playfully mocking tone, getting comfortable in his chair.

Jacob grinned happily, seeing the edge of Molly's own grin, as she drew in the memories herself. He shook his head a few times, raising his brows.
"Oh, yeah... It was a damn fine Carburetor on that thing. So effective replacing fuel explosions, with steam pumps? Yeah, forgot about the Yales' eye for design." He muttered lightly to himself, as his smile grew. "That Carburetor, didn't deserve being remembered, though." He suggested, looking back to Molly, as the curtains were about to open, and the stage set. "You, I remember quite vividly." He admitted in a low whisper, letting the play begin smiling affectionately as he turned his eyes' attention towards the stage. He did place a hand on Molly's lower arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, and a stroke of his thumb, before letting go.

For the most part, Jacob enjoyed the play itself. He took it for what it was meant to be. Entertainment. He couldn't really relate to anyone on stage. He was far from the Zelous fanatic, that was Van Helsing. He was hardly the dashing Hero of John Harker. He figured he could draw some similarities to the victim, Lucy. Being corrupted by a power, beyond her own, and most's imagination? Then again, he'd never consider himself the helpless victim. He'd come out on his own. There was no one there to do it for him, after all.
If anything... For a split second, he could relate to a side of Count Dracula. Far from the arrogant, wicked person that he was, but. Was he dragging Molly down? 'Corrupting' her with his charm and whims? Luring her into their little adventures. A playful word for Criminal activity, really.

That thought didn't linger long, but it left an impression. Perhaps it was best, he didn't try something like this again. Drag her into situations, that she didn't belong. She had no reason to do what she did tonight. She could've bought the tickets, no sweat. Probably for both of them. Perhaps her old man had been right, all along. Perhaps he was a bad influence.
All those thoughts were dulled, every time he felt Molly's hand grasping at his arm, as he himself twitched at the sudden shocks. Every time she did, he'd glance in her direction, watching her frame focusing back on the show. It would bring a smile to his lips, every time.

Jacob's most obvious reaction came around near the end. As the steak was piled through Dracula's heart, and an overdramatic scene ensued. Fake blood splashed from the man's chest as if propelled from a barrel. It was obviously fake. Blood was thicker. Heavier. It stuck to surfaces, like a goo. Wouldn't let go, clinging even when you washed it dry in a sink, when the bombs paused. When the heart had stopped, and the infirmary let out a sigh of momentary relief, as well as grief for the ones who didn't make it.
Images flashed across Jacob's retinae. Crimson hands, the human one shaking violently bellow running water. Rubbing. Itching. Scratching. Clawing. It wouldn't let off. The blood stuck to the hands, even as their pale surface was all that remained. Keep rinsing. It's still there. Keep going... Mind just kept raising, as fingers kept rubbing together. Even as all semblance of natural oils in the skin was gone, leaving the hands red from irritated blood vessels beneath the skin, rather than the blood that'd been on the surface.

Jacob had involuntarily pinched his eyes shut, after inhaling a gasp at the splashing blood from the screaming Dracula's chest. His breathing became laboured, as his fingers dug into the wood of the chair, hindering the violent shaking the human one so desperately wanted to stop. It was probably luck, that his mechanical hand had been extended, a small distance from the chair's arm-rest, fingers instead clenching into a fist.
His breathing was a silent panting, before his adrenaline started doing any sort of dip, just as the lights slowly came back on. Jacob gulped in silence, as his eyes slowly opened, pinched as they adjusted to the lights.

He turned his focus back on Molly, then. Eyes hard for a second, but slowly lighting up, with every word that came running out of her. An outlet, for the long silence after a play, for sure. While he did not catch on to every word she spoke, he watched every curve and twitch her soft lips made. Slowly, it brought a smile to his own, as he gulped. The grusom images that had plagued him, seemed to leave him, much faster than they used to. He didn't realize it, but his mechanical hand had been reaching for his inside pocket. His cigarettes. The sweeter tobacco, waiting to linger his trauma. But, he no longer felt the need for it. As Molly's eyes came to meet his, a gentle blush apparent on her cheeks. It caused him a second of confusion, wondering whatever reason she had to blush? Did he miss something in what she'd been saying?

Jacob gulped discreetly as Molly's lips met his cheek, his own curling an affectionate smile as he looked down to her. Before he could respond, however, she was back on her feet, looking over the audience. His smile didn't drop, even as he noticed his hand was getting white for how hard he was clutching the chair. Finally letting go, he got to his feet himself, looking over the audience for a moment.
"Well... We are in. Don't see why anyone would look for our tickets now?" He suggested, shrugging as he looked back towards the door that he'd blocked. Outside there was a faint sound of the few others who'd been in booths walking down to join the people from the floor, on the way towards the main hall. He pouted his lips as he looked back down to Molly, shrugging his shoulders. "Front door, for once? Feel like normal people, for once?" He smirked lightly. He didn't give her long to think about it, chuckling as he shook his head and left arm. "Who am I kiddin'? I wouldn't know normal, if it slapped me across the face." He laughed, raising his arm towards the beams they'd come from. Doing this, they would surely be spotted, and have to run their way out, but there was less risk of their faces being seen. Less chance she'd be recognized. Recognized, with him.

She would have a few moments to think about it, as Jacob took aim, arm outstretched, glancing half way towards her, with a simple smile. It was hard to read. Not obvious, if he wanted to do this. Compared to his usual composure, however, he seemed strangely indecisive. Almost unsure. And he was. Part of him, just wanted to walk out of there, with her arm in his, but he knew that might not be the best for her reputation. While part of him, also feared if his aim would even be as good as usual, after an episode like that, however gentle it was.
Still, it would be her decision. The pressure of failing Molly, would be enough to true his aim, he was sure.
 
"We might be in, but take a look down there. We don't exactly blend in, you know?" Although with very little trouble, Molly could have easily disappeared among the dispersing crowd of well-dressed nouveau riche. Indeed, part of the reason her eyes were scanning the crowd was to catch sight of anyone she might know; anyone who might be able to recognize and ignite the gossip that the up-and-coming club owner showed up to the Grand Theodora in trousers with a half-machine veteran on her arm, without bothering to pay for a ticket. There were one or two faces that she was sure had appeared at the Box previously, but she couldn't put names to them, which meant there probably hadn't been a personal introduction. All the same, now that the lights were back on she was getting anxious to leave.

But when she turned around and looked at her companion, she let out a gasp of surprise. "Why, Jay honey, you're white as a ghost! Are you feeling all right?" In the dark she hadn't noticed his reactions to the dramatic gore on the stage below, otherwise she might have recognized some of the same symptoms she'd seen in her stepbrother. Jacob was attempting a smile though, and didn't seem to have any trouble standing, but all the same Molly reached up to lay a hand on his forehead, just in case. "You don't feel warm...or cold for that matter. All the same..." her hand dropped, then patted his chest reassuringly. "What do you say to a cup of coffee and slice of apple pie? I know a great place a few blocks from here, it's open all night. And before you ask, yes you're dressed appropriately. It's just a diner so I won't take no for an answer."

She did tug the lapels of his coat gently though, in an almost wifely show of grooming. Then taking his arm, she paused with her hand on the door to the box. "I guess we can try the front. Let's just keep a low profile, all right?" Molly adjusted her hat so it fully covered her hair and the top part of her face, then raised the collar on her coat just to be safe. She felt a bit like a prima donna doing so, but it wasn't that she was trying to hide her relationship (Oh, it's a relationship now? her inner voice sneered) with Jacob. She just didn't fancy the idea of their little escapade being tied back to her business.

In the end, it was a good thing she did take the precaution. They weren't halfway down the stairs when a young man carrying a broom and wastebucket rounded a corner, nearly bumping straight into them.

"Oh, I'm sorry Miss. I thought these boxes was unoccupied tonight..." the lad began, but when he saw how the couple before him was dressed. His beady little eyes narrowed as he leaned suspiciously over his mop. "If you don't mind, can I see your tickets please?"

Her heart began to race, but it only took a moment for Molly's eyes to meet Jacob's. "Of course, young man," she remarked in a false accent that was a clear mockery of the old New York uppercrust. "Darling, can you show this gentlemen our tickets?"

Once the boy's eyes were on Jacob, she quickly let go of her companion's arm and slipped her tiny frame past him. Shoving hard at the wastebasket on the janitor's back, she seized her companion by the wrist and began to pull him down the stairs. "Come on!" she gasped. "Stage door, around the corner to the left!" At least, that was where it had been the one time she'd been allowed backstage at the Grand Theodora, when she'd come to see Saratoga on stage with an old college chum looking for a rich young meal ticket. That encounter had ended in Molly jilting her date for the production's leading man, who subsequently helped her escape out a door in the back of the building.

There was a narrow corridor at the bottom of the stairwell that connected directly to one of the wings of the stage. It wasn't uncommon for the high-spending viewers to want to meet the talent in-person, and it was a convenient path to facilitate the rendezvous without needing to involve the rest of the theater-going riff raff. Pulling Jacob around the wing, the pair found themselves backstage, smack dab in the middle of a group of chattering actors and stagehands. Few of them noticed the fugitives, but the one or two that did were too dumbfounded at the spectacle to say anything. Molly only offered an equally bewildered smile, then quickened her pace as her eyes fell on the exterior door at the back.

No one intentionally impeded them, although she did hear a few shouts of "Stop!" and "Hey!" coming from behind. Still, they made it out of the theater in one piece, into an alley that was just beginning to grow dusty with light November snow. The door slammed behind them, but as they darted around the corner of the building, there was no sign of anyone else pursuing them beyond it. For the moment, at least.

"Now what?" she panted, looking back at Jacob, still fearful they might be followed.
 
looking over the crowd, Jacob tilted his head a bit from side, to side. Had to admit, they weren't exactly dressed, like the majority of them. He'd forgotten, how Theatre was a place to get dressed up for. In France, him and his Company had attended a few shows, wearing just their uniforms, not even realizing it was probably the nicest clothes he'd ever worn. Why didn't he wear that more often? His uniform? Perhaps he'd be more accepted in social circles, wearing that? Then again, he'd be advertising for a thing he didn't believe in, anymore. Something he partly wanted to forget, that he was ever a part of...

Hearing her sudden concern for him, caused him to look surprised for a moment, pulling her gaze off of the crowds, and back down to her. He didn't realize how his little episode had really affected him, but he had indeed looked pale for a moment, and it'd caused his face to pull into a frown of worry.
Said frown disappeared, as Molly started grooming over him, lowering his head to meet her hand, shaking it a few times. He chuckled as she suggested they attend a Dinner, nodding his head now instead.
"I am fine, really, but. Not going to say no to Pie and Coffee." He agreed, smiling affectionately, as he placed a hand over her's, as it tugged at his coat. He stroked her's with a finger, nodding again as she suggested they just try the front door, like normal people. His lips grew into a wider smile with the suggestion, snickering lightly. "Or, if I don't keep a low profile, I might drag more eyes from you? Can't have people thinking, Molly Fairbairn went to the Theatre in... Pants! A ghast..." He playfully mocked, smirking with a wink, as he pulled the chair aside from the door. "In my opinion, pants suits you just as well, though, but I did get your point. Didn't see any other Ladies down there, wearing but dresses and skirts. Freezing their legs off... Why women are so often cold, is not a surprise to me." He laughed lightly, as they head through the door.

Walking through the neigh empty hall, he soon understood what further concerns Molly might've had. It seemed this entire section had been mostly unused tonight, and soon, they met someone with just that kind of knowledge. Jacob just smiled at the bot, as his suspicions grew. As Molly threw it in his court, he raised a hand, nodding a single time.
"Why, of course love. Let me juuust." He started, rummaging through his highly conspicuous shoulder bag. Then, as she pulled at him, he laughed lightly as he passed the stumbling Janitor, pulling out a shirt, causing him to rase a brow. "It appears we're all out of Ticket, Darling... But I have found my other shirt?" He joked, as Molly pulled away at him, following her closely with another laugh.

Tugging his shirt back in, he ducked under a few beams, being taller than the woman, so quick on her feet. Then, as they burst out among chatting actors, Jacob raised a brow again, as they started making way for the charging bulls, huffing and complaining at their rudeness.
"Woups. Sorry! Coming through. Excuse me." Jacob had to apologize, as the petite woman in front of him, seemed to forget she was practically dragging along a cart, in the massive man that was Jacob. He bumped into several people on the way, laughing and excusing himself. On the way, however, he spotted the rather elegant, if a bit pompous and offended, actor that played Lucy, holding a bouquet of flowers. Not to mention, behind her, stood what seemed like a stagehand, holding several other kinds of flowers. She had more than enough, surely?
"Excuse me, you won't need that, surely." Jacob mumbled as they passed her by, quickly snatching the bouquet of red and white roses, neatly decorated with pretty ribbons and other such nonsense. It caused a gasp, and practically short whail from the woman, causing Jacob to grimace lightly, fearing he'd just poked a hornets' nest, as he quickly tugged the bouquet into his bag, without scrounging the wrapping paper too much.

Rushing through a door, Jacob laughed again, shaking his head a few times as they stumbled into the valley. Looking behind them, he heard a familiar voice and saw a familiar, bulgy face appearing somewhere deep in the crowd they'd just rushed through. The Head Manager of the Theodora.
"What on earth is all this ruckus!? Who's running through my stages! Stop them!" He complained as several people started preparing to rush out the door. Jacob raised his brows, as the pair continued down the alleyway, and then round a corner.

Stopping, Jacob looked down to Molly with a little smirk on his lips, hearing the light hint of fear in her voice. He stroked the side of her head to calm her down, as he leaned back to peak around the corner.
"Don't worry, don't think anyone's going to listen to the old..." He was interrupted as the closed-door was swung open again, and several men came running out, among them, the Lead actor who played Dracula, still partly in costume. This caused Jacob to laugh slightly, drawing attention to their direction, Dracula pointing towards that end of the alley, as the chase let on.
"Or, well, we keep running, because now we're being chased by the Manager, as well as Dracula and Van Helsing!" Jacob laughed, quickly preparing to head them further down the new alley they'd entered. "And I would've thought, those two could never settle their differences?" He suggested, clearly not as frightful as Molly was.

He knew this alley. It all just came back to him... Yes, it was a long time ago, but he remembered this corner. Right around it, a smaller alley, seemingly a dead-end, leading to the back of a Bakery. He remembered the sweet scent of pastry and warm bread, he'd so often indulged in, before snatching some leftovers to share with the gang.
"This way." He insisted, lowering his voice now, not to attract the crowd, rambling and shouting behind them. He turned them down the dead-end, ending in a wooden fence, taller than both of them. If Molly doubted him and was about to turn a different direction, Jacob was quick to pull her with him, and straight over to the wooden fence. No one had seen them turn around said corner, and they had just about enough time to get over the fence.

Jacob lifted Molly up by the waist, helping her reach the top of the fence. His frantic hands didn't think of decency, as he helped nudge her faster over the wood with hands on her bottom and thighs, before hoping himself to the wood and easily swinging himself over. Getting over, he pulled her against the wood, and put a finger in front of his lips, asking her to be quiet, just as the rabble rushed past the alley they'd turned down, paying the dead-end no mind. Jacob smirked as it'd worked, barely containing his laughter, as he looked through tiny holes in the wood now behind them.

As things started dying down, Jacob finally sighed in a soft chuckle, smirking down to Molly as he let go.
"Well... That was probably the most interesting chase, I've ever taken part in..." He suggested, finally laughing as he'd wanted to for a while, looking over his shoulder, to one of the nearby windows. Just as he remembered it. Above a dumpster, a window leading to the bakery, and besides it the door leading through to the back. Walking a little closer, he saw the window was, as always, slightly ajar. He smiled, hopping on top of the dumpster's closed lid, just barely being able to reach a finger bellow the window, to unhinge the lock. Doing so, he swung it slightly open, and saw the basket of leftover bread from the day's sales.

"Seems the old Lady here, still leaves leftovers for the..." He paused, no longer looking down to Molly, but slightly past her, narrowing his eyes a bit. His face was quick to losen, however, standing crouched on top of the dumpster, he raised a hand carefully. "Hey, bud. Don't worry, we aren't going to hurt you." He mused, his voice now as calm as a gentle summer breeze. Caught between them, and the exit, a small boy slowly crawled out from behind a garbage can.
"Sorry, Sir. We weren't... Doing anything." He apologized, as he was joined by another young boy, probably a few years younger than him. Immediately, Jacob saw himself and Liam in the two scruffy Urchins.

"Hardly a Sir pressent here, buddy." Jacob admitted with a gentle laugh, nodding towards the window. "Did you know about this?" He asked, the boy shaking his head.
"We just.. Take the stuff they through out, sir..." He admitted, stepping a little closer, Jacob's kindness seemingly bringing out a bit of bravery.
"Sure... But, hey. It's meant for you guys. The owner just doesn't want people to think she's 'Feeding Street Urchins', because apparently that's a... Bad thing, or something. H.. Eey. Keep out of her pockets, kid." He was about to toss a loaf of bread, as the youngest kid had gotten a little closer to Molly, trying to sneak a little closer. He was quick to back off, however, as Jacob caught on to him, both kids seemingly ready to bolt at that. But Jacob just smiled, tossing down a loaf of bread to Molly, still being the closest, before taking out a few more pieces. They didn't exactly need the, but the kids sure might.
 
As she struggle to catch her breath (morning exercises were one thing, running for one's life was quite another, she was beginning to remember), Molly's eyes fell on Jacob's half-open bag. "Oh for fuck's sake Jay...did you steal that poor girl's flowers?" she huffed, secretly touched at the gesture but annoyed at the risk he'd taken. Of course, there was no time to argue about the matter, not with the stage door bursting open and half the cast and crew erupting out into the alleyway. The woman groaned, she could see the headlines now. Local Entrepreneur Caught Theater Jumping At Grand Theodora. Probably with a byline by Vera Stephenson.

But while long absence had only weakened the wild girl that dwelt in Molly's heart, Jacob was still sharp and quick as a knife, grabbing her hand and leading her further into the labyrinth of alleys and passages between the towering old buildings. If she'd had a map in front of her, the blonde woman couldn't begin to determine where they were or where they were headed, but there was something reassuring in the steady footsteps of the man beside her, and for all he'd teased about her gaining weight, she felt like she weighed no more than a feather as he easily lifted her over a wooden fence.

With the barrier between them and their pursuers, the sounds of shouts were heavily muffled, and eventually died off. Still, Molly didn't dare say a word until Jacob dared one of those mischievous laughs that rang so clearly in her memory, at which point she let out a heavy sigh of relief and reached into the inner pocket of her coat. "Jiminy Christmas, I need a goddamn smoke," she said finally, pulling out her case. "Next time, let's just go to the movies, huh? My treat." Her hands were shaking as she slid one of the long thin cigarettes between her lips and began to feel around in her pockets for her lighter. She would have asked Jacob for a light, but he seemed fascinated by something on the windowsill of the nearby building.

"Hm?" She glanced back up and saw he was indicating a basket of leftover baked goods. Realization washed over her face, and she almost let the cigarette drop. "Oh yeah, I remember this place now. Coming here with you was the only time I ever got some of Mrs. Rothberg's gingerbread. Martha never let us have any if we came in the front. She was so worried Anne and I would get fat and nobody would want us." There was more than a little bit of bitterness in her laugh, but it died off quickly as soon as Molly realized she and Jacob weren't alone in the alley.

"Oh...uh, hello there," she stammered at the boys, unsure of what to say. She was no good with kids, never had been. Even when she was young, she always felt out of place among the children of her parents' wealthy friends, what with her outspoken ways and wild ideas. But she hadn't always gotten along with everyone in Jacob and Liam's gang either. There was more than one of the urchins who never saw her as anything but some rich girl pretending to be Wendy in Neverland, knowing full well at the end of the night she'd be going home to a warm bed and a hot meal (and a shrill rebuke and sharp slap across the face from Martha).

Jacob though...Jacob was a wonder. Molly couldn't help but smile as she watched him with the kids, so entranced that she didn't even notice the little devil trying his hand at her pocket. While her friend's words were a gentle scolding, the woman remained silent, but a bitterly cold look crossed her face that caused the kid to shrink back in terror. Too late she realized the harshness of her expression, and even though she caught the bread easily and held it out in offering, the boy wanted nothing to do with her. "Suit yourself, kid. It's here when you want it. No skin off my nose either way," she murmured, walking back to the windowsill and placing the loaf gently back in the basket.

Stepping back aways, she finally managed to light her cigarette and take the much longed-for drag. "Ah Jacob..." she sighed, almost too softly for him to hear. "You oughta find a nice girl, get married, have a couple of kids. Course you'll have to quit the cathouse first..."
 
Jacob snickered with Molly's complaint about the flowers but was a bit disappointed that she'd noticed, having hoped to surprise her with it later. No matter. Not like the woman was going to miss them.
"Eh. She had so many flowers, she needed her admirers to carry the majority of them. She won't miss a single bouquet." He smirked, as the chaos of the whole situation, he'd hoped would've distracted her enough to not notice the flowers, swallowed them up once more.


Getting to safety, standing in silence, Jacob noticed the fright and discomfort on Molly. It was the glaring kind, of someone who'd just feared death, as he was so used to, but fear nevertheless. His mischievous laugh was followed by a somewhat worrisome chuckle at that notion. For a split second there, he'd hoped things could be as they used to. That he could still take Molly on adventures, she could never get at home. From anyone else. But with this reaction, it seemed Molly wasn't as likely to enjoy such shenanigans anymore.
With her offer of the Movies another time, Jacob spread a crooked smile, filled with anything but excitement. A faint disappointing realization, that if he was going to see Molly, and spend time with her, someone would have to put out. Someone would have to spend money. Money, that he didn't have, meaning, at his current prospects, it might always have to be her. Even with the pay-checks, he got from the Nook, he had to spend a painful amount of it on drugs for his condition.

He decided to pass the subject, for now, shaking his head as he climbed up for the window. He smiled as Molly seemed to remember the place, starting to work the window. He laughed softly with the bitterness in her's, as he reached in for the leftovers for that night. He was about to speak, when he'd noticed the kids in the darkness, and his attention turned towards them. He noticed the interaction between the youngest of the boys and Molly, causing him to grunt a chuckle. He sighed softly with how quick Molly was to give up, interjecting with a hand, to take the loaf she was about to put away.
"Of course he wants it Moe. He's just being careful. You've grown up to have the demeanor of a Rich Person. For all he knows, you might be planning to cut off one of his fingers, for trying to steal from you." Jacob chuckled, hopping down after snatching everything in the windowsill. "Never take hand-outs?" Jacob started an old phrase, causing the oldest one of the boys to light up a little, looking between Jacob and his brother. Jacob nodded a single time, prompting the kid to speak.
"For it might become a 'hand-off'?" The kid finished it, causing Jacob to grin widely, laughing as he tossed the loaf to the smallest kid and a few pastries to the oldest.
"'Especially if you've tried to steal from e'm', That's right. You're running me and Liam's old turf. Guess old Miquelle is still kicking. Not exactly a lyricist, the old fool, but many of his teachings kept us safe." He smiled at the kids, ruffling the oldest hair, and shoving them along the alley, letting the two run off. He frowned slightly, looking after them, then turning to Molly.
"Part of those teachings was to be afraid of people like your family... It wasn't uncommon for kids like us to get caught and disappear afterward. You're probably the only reason, I grew up to know that; the Rich isn't all bad." He admitted, smiling faintly.

He could've gone on, and on, about how both sides of the spectrum, was causing the inequalities of society, in his opinion, but he decided to keep politics out of this. He wasn't entirely sure Molly would agree. Not entirely sure, Molly could still see the good in people like him, if it wasn't him. There'd been several hints, that she'd joined the ranks of the Rich and Famous, and had no time for the poor anymore.
Instead, he joined her side, picking out a donut he'd been hiding from the kids, breaking it in two.
"How little your parents cherished real feelings... I would've still wanted you, no matter how addicted to sweets n' dough you would've gotten, and how fat it might've made you." He admitted, smirking lightly as he offered her half of the donut, nodding towards her cigarette. "Sweets for a cigarette?" He offered, laughing as he handed over the donut either way, and found his own cigarettes if she didn't offer.

Jacob looked thoughtful, lighting whatever cigarette he'd acquired, preparing to set back towards the streets. From this side, they could open a door in the fence, and sneak their way back out to the streets, where they'd look like any other couple, out for a late-night walk.
"Really reckon I'd stand a higher chance at a family, unemployed than employed as a Bouncer at a Brothel?" Jacob finally questioned, looking down to Molly with a small smirk. "Or, is that just your seeming dismay with the Nook talking?" He suggested with a laugh, shaking his head. "I never had a father. Wouldn't know what I'd do with a kid, that wasn't surviving the streets as an Urchin." He admitted, shrugging his shoulders, as he tugged his hands into his pockets, letting Molly show their way to the Dinner she'd insisted on. "And, besides. Not sure I'll ever get my hands on an interested 'nice girl'... Nice girls don't break into Theatres and run from the scene. Nice girls wouldn't distract a man, while I stole his car. Nice girls, would probably frown on my past." He took a large drag from his cigarette, turning a smile down towards Molly.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for joining me tonight, Moe. Even if it's scared you off any adventures like that in the future." He snickered, reaching into his bag for the bouquet, offering it over to Molly. The paper wrappings had been scrounged a little but done its job in keeping the flowers intact. "Please, pretend like you didn't catch me stealing these, from a woman served flowers in excess, could you?" He grinned, wrapping his free arm around her side, pulling her against him with a soft laugh, as they continued on.
 
Molly raised an eyebrow and rather indignantly tapped her ash to the side. "Hey, I'll have you know there are plenty of nice 'Rich People.' Just because I don't happen to be one of them doesn't mean you should write off the whole lot. You'd see a lot fewer orphan homes and charity wards without a lot of the rich people in this city." She raised the smoke to her lips again and leaned back against the wall of the bakery, a naughty little gleam shining in her eye. "And besides, we never cut off peoples' fingers ourselves, that would be beneath us. Don't you know there are people you can hire for things like that?"

She raised her hand in declination of the donut, but held out her cigarette case to him all the same. "Those are just the ah...normal type, you know? I don't go in for the reefer like a lot of the kids do these days," she admitted, shutting the case after he'd helped himself. "As for your employment, we both know you can do better than busting heads for Le'Fleur. I know it takes some time to get back on your feet after being gone so long, but, well, I hope you just get there soon honey. It would break my heart to see you waste yourself there when you're capable of so much more than that. Besides, what'll happen to you if some uppity D.A. gets appointed and decides to start cracking down on all the sin in this town? You'll be out of a job and possibly in the clink yourself. I don't trust that bitch not to throw you under the bus at the first opportunity, and while some people might deserve it, you sure as hell don't."

It did not seem worth mentioning that a defense attorney cracking down on prostitution probably wouldn't look too kindly on illegal nightclubs either.

"And so what if you never had an old man yourself?" Molly continued as they stepped out of the alley onto the deserted sidewalk. "You still treat your kids the way you'd treat any other one. You love them. Look after them. If they do something bad, you tell them to knock it off, and if they do something good you tell them you're proud of them. What, is it too hard to care about someone if they aren't dirt poor?" The words came out more harshly than she had intended, and she immediately regretted them. Sighing, she tossed the butt of her cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath her heel.

"I'm sorry Jay, I didn't mean it that way. And I'm not gonna pretend I'm one of those nice girls you deserve. You're right, I'm not nice. Why you ever put up with me, I'll never know. I was a selfish, spoiled brat when I was a kid, and absolutely nothing has changed except now I'm a selfish, spoiled, successful brat. But not everybody is like me, honey, you gotta believe that." Moving in front of him, she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and smiled at him, much more warmly this time. "There are a lot of nice girls out there that would be lucky to have a guy like you. And if you ever look for a job not at a brothel, I wouldn't be surprised if they swarm all over you, metal parts and all. Now, of course when you do meet a girl I'll still be jealous as Juno and want to scratch her eyes out," Molly admitted with a laugh, but then she reached one hand up to touch his cheek. "But if you're happy, that's all that matters in the end."

Dropping her hand, she shook her head but accepted his flowers with a smile, keeping hold of his arm as they continued on down the street. "I'm only accepting these because that girl didn't deserve them. You could see the stagehand miming her lines to her from the wing! Dracula sure was great though..."

She led him a few blocks further until they came to a brightly lit diner on the corner with a flashing "EAT" sign on the roof and only a handful of tired-looking patrons drinking coffee at the counter inside. But when they stepped inside, an extremely tall waitress with light brown skin and a curly topknot looked at them in pleasant surprise.

"Why, Miss Fairbairn! What brings you to our neck of the woods?" the waitress remarked, grabbing a couple of menus as she approached.

Molly smiled back and slipped Jacob a sly glance. "Just took in a show up at the Theodora."

"Really! Boy that Dracula gives me the heebie-jeebies," the woman replied, leading the pair to a booth. "How's Mama? She working tonight?"

"Yeah, her and Berg. You should come down one of these days, Heidi. Stephen's been asking about you," the blonde woman replied with more than a hint of insinuation in her voice.

Heidi blushed and pretended to smack Molly with one of the menus. "You tell him to keep his askin' to that little redhead wife of his, or I'll send my husband down there to answer for him. Now what can I get you?"

After they had given their orders and Heidi had poured coffee for the both of them, the club owner looked back at her companion. "Heidi's mama--that's Big Frieda--heads security for my club, and two of her brothers and one of her sisters all bounce for me," she explained. "We all used to be neighbors, as a matter of fact. Heidi was one of the first hostesses I hired, only she didn't want to keep working for me after she got married and had her first baby--too many late nights, you know? I wasn't actually sure she'd be working tonight, but her husband owns this joint, so I like to give them business when I can." Molly took a deep drink of the strong black coffee, thinking about all of the employees she had seen come and go in her own doors, when suddenly an idea occurred to her.

"Jay...how would you feel about coming to work for me?" she asked slowly. "I'll pay you as much as Le'Fleur does. Five nights a week working the door, maybe keeping an eye on things inside on crowded nights." Molly tried not to look too hopeful as she smiled. "You'd meet a lot of nice girls...with money..."
 
Jacob chuckled with a small smirk, as Molly started defending rich people to him, as she'd done before, raising a hand defensively.
"You weren't listening, Moe, I know. I'm not the one you need to defend Rich People to." He chuckled again but narrowed his eyes a bit with a grin. "But let's not kid each other, and pretend that Charity drives, and Orphanages named after Rich people, are all about the poor, huh? Or, that the poor, see all the money from these events? The Umbridge Orphanage sure didn't see any of Lord Umbridge's money. His own children saw a lot more of that. Liam and I didn't leave, because the Orphanage had a healthy flow of money, to help their kids, but because they intended to make workers out of us, for the sake of Umbridge's other holdings." He suggested. Unbeknownst to Jacob, The Umbridge Orphanage, in which Liam and Jacob had spent their youngest years, had shut down several years ago, when some doo-gooders finally realized, it was basically just a grooming exercise, to make underpaid factory workers for the Umbridge Diesel Company. Of course, that whole scandal had just wafted away, as many scandals of the Rich did.

"Good." Jacob agreed, as Molly explained her cigarettes were just that, as he chowed down the half of the donut she'd declined as well, taking a cigarette as she continued. He smiled only lightly as she continued, lighting his cigarette with a small sigh. She sure seemed to believe what she was saying. That he was worth more. He snorted lightly with the suggestion Le'Fleur would throw him under the boss, shaking his head a few times, heavily disagreeing. He really only saw her do that, if she was under the bus herself, first. Of course she would, then, since she'd have nothing left to give. But Le'Fleur treasured her Employees, in a way he was pretty sure Molly might understand. If, she had the time to listen to a Prostitute, and actually listen.

Other than his disagreeing nod, he didn't comment on her opinion on his work, letting her continue instead. Her following comment had him raise a brow lightly, looking down at her with a small frown on her lips. They both knew that isn't what he'd meant. And that she was just being mean then. Her immediate apology didn't exactly make it a lot better, Jacob still shaking his head a single time, looking away for a moment.
He looked back down as she placed a hand on his shoulder, sighing softly as she went on about herself, chuckling a single time through his nose.
"Oh, shut up, Moe..." He laughed a bit more, shaking his head again as he raised a hand to gently stroke Molly's cheek. "You're talking shit about my old lover, here..." He chuckled, not letting go of the side of her head immediately, as he looked into her eyes. "Come on... Do you think I was that blind, back then? Think I would've hung with you if you were that much of a spoiled brat? Like your Sister? Your brother? Fuck no, Moe. Or, because you were just a nice piece of ass? No. No, I saw something different in you. That you'd realized, how ignorant your family had become, to the world around them. How the world had more to offer, than other people's coin-purses. And... Because you seemed to see something in me, that I didn't. Besides that, you were just plain old fun. Exciting. I looked forward to you showing up, every single day." He explained, gently stroking her cheek again, as he shook his head. "Maybe you've just forgotten all of that. You've sure forgotten what'll make me happy if you think some perfect Marry Sue, is what'll make me happy, girl." He insisted with a snicker, nudging her jawline with a finger, as he finally let his hand drop.

"You did always have a nice piece of ass as well, though, which helped, but that's beside the point..." He batted his brows with a shrug of his shoulders and a wide grin, as he turned back towards the streets. He tried to seem like his mood was all good, in explaining all of that, but deep down, it hurt having to. Had she really forgotten so much about their relationship? That she now thought, she could be the Rich person to tell him, what he deserved, and didn't. Just like the Rich usually did? The fact that she'd never done that before, being one of her winning traits, back then? She really had forgotten a lot. She really had forgotten him.


Jacob followed Molly along, entering the dinner, as he looked around, smiling lightly. It wasn't a grand, prestine establishment, as he might've feared. It seemed the kind of place, even he could afford to visit regularly. He smiled at the hostess as she welcomed Molly, giving her a formal nod, as Molly explained her reason for being there.
"Evening, Miss." He greeted her, even though she didn't seem particularly interested in greeting him. He didn't take that the wrong way, as the two seemed to be friends, letting them have their conversation. He snickered lightly with it, as he joined Molly for a table, not even realizing he'd gone straight back to his old ways, hiding from Heidi behind his tall collar.

Sitting down, he ordered a cup of coffee, and only whatever Molly insisted he had to eat, taking that Pie she'd suggested earlier. He made his face scarce as Heidi poured their cups, thanking her for the pour, as he picked up his coffee. He smiled, and listened, as Molly explained the two of their's former relationship. He was interested to hear, that a woman ran security for her. About as fascinated to see, how big a woman would have to be, to birth and raise someone like Heidi, almost as high as him...
"Seems like a nice establishments. Compliments to the owners." He mused towards Heidi, nodding a single time, as he raised his coffee to take a sip, showing no real reaction to the strong bitter inside. He'd grown used to strong coffee, in an environment when sleeping was dangerous. "Seems like your business has almost become their family business as well." He suggested with a silent chuckle. "Must be a good place to work." He admitted, almost regretting his words, as she soon moved on to offer his employment there as well. He didn't want to encourage that.

Jacob smiled lightly, as she landed her pitch, sighing softly as he looked down into the black waves in his hand. He went silent for a while again, trying to find the right words to answer that offer. The right words, to not offend anyone.
"Moe, I..." He started, not looking up, sighing softly as he lowered his coffee. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I fear that you might." He suggested, looking up with a careful smile. "I don't. I don't want business between us." He admitted, speaking like he was treading a field of coal, careful not to burn himself. "I don't ever want us to find disagreements, like that you have with Liam right now. And I really, don't want to ever ask you for more money, Moe. I never did. And... And, to be honest, I don't think I ever could. Even if I felt like I deserved a raise, I couldn't ask for it. And I don't ever want an argument between us, because you've skimmed out on me, or because I've done a horrible work as an Employee..." He tried to explain himself, clearly not all that comfortable doing so.
"I am sure, you'd be a great Employer, please don't get me wrong, Moe. I just... Wouldn't ever feel like I was a good enough Employee, under your charge. I'd always try to do better. And I'd keep pushing myself, and ultimately end up fucking something up, and cost you money. The last thing I'd want to do." He continued, every word coming rather difficult to him. He'd really hoped never to have to answer to this offer, and even though he'd known the answer to it since he saw her again, he still hadn't found a good way to explain himself. He'd just kept telling himself, that he had to.

Jacob groaned softly, itching the side of his jaw as he leaned back in his chair, nudging his coffee slightly, grimacing.
"Do you see where I'm getting at? I don't ever want to get in an argument with you, about pay, you know?" He continued. "Besides, you're an excellent businesswoman, clearly. And I, am a horribly self-destructive employee. I just spent ten years, working under the worst conditions, for something I stopped believing in after the first few years. You could spin me around a finger, and churn me through, without batting an eye." He chuckled lightly, but raised his fingers slightly off the table. "Not saying you ever would. Honestly don't think you would. I think... You might hurt your own business, before you hurt me. Which. I also really don't want." He sighed softly, lowering his head again.

"Alright, I'm going to shut up now, I'm babbling. Thanks a lot for the offer, Moe. I want to get closer to you, I really do. But I don't think to become your Employee, is a good way of doing it." He finally finished, a small smile on his lips. He looked thoughtful for a second, shrugging a bit. "Then again. If you ever needed my help, I wouldn't say no, just. Don't pay me for it?" He suggested with a weak chuckle. "That's probably another reason, I shouldn't take to working for you, Moe. I'd never feel like I was working, under you. It'd just be my pleasure. And I think you'd get sicko f me saying, you didn't need to pay me." He smirked, realizing the insinuation in his words, shaking his head a few times, as he picked up his coffee. "Fuck, I think that's probably the most difficult thing, I've ever had to explain. And, that I've just said more than I have in months..." He finished, shaking his head a few times, taking another large gulp from his coffee, the heat stinging at his tongue and his gums.
 
While Molly sipped her coffee, a mask of ice seemed to have descended across her pretty face. She did not interrupt Jacob as he explained his reasons for declining her offer, nor did she look him in the eyes as she listened. How could she? Every word he spoke seemed to further stir the storm of emotions within her.

Of course he didn't want to work for her. Why had she even asked? He would never want to feel indebted to her, he was even willing to get caught by the cops rather than letting her pay for a date. But why did he have to be so goddamn proud? Things were different these days, girls bought things for guys all the time, and they did it with smiles on their faces. Molly would have been proud herself to take him anywhere in the city and pay for it with her own money. After all, she was a business woman who'd made her fortune, and it wasn't often she got to treat anyone to fun.

Was it that he had a problem with her being a woman who'd made her own fortune? Somehow she thought that if it had been Liam offering Jacob the job instead of her, he wouldn't have been so quick to say no. Then again, Molly had to acknowledge that Le'Fleur was a businesswoman as well, and Jacob had happily gone to work for her, even though she was practically a stranger. But just because she had come from a similar background, and so did all of her employees, he had trusted her, just like that.

Then the truth hit Molly like a gut punch. He thinks I'm one of them. The callous rich, the monsters who supposedly who could crush people like Jacob and Le'Fleur under their heels and just keep on walking.

Well, is he wrong? A cruel voice inside her asked. Molly's fingers clenched around the coffee cup. No, he wasn't. But he couldn't know that about her. He couldn't know the things she had done, the things she would probably continue to do. If he did, he wouldn't be sitting across from her, trying to avoid hurting her feelings while at the same time making it clear that he didn't trust her as anything more than a girl to have fun with. A swell date, but not someone you trust with your life and livelihood.

If he had been anyone else but Jacob, her Jacob, whom she trusted with her life, who she had been ready to throw everything away for until life and a war had gotten in the way, it wouldn't have hurt so badly. But when she thought about it, wasn't this what she had feared ever since she first laid eyes on him on the roof the other night? Jacob had loved Molly the Girl, and probably still did. But Molly the Woman? No, he could never.

When he had finished speaking, Molly raised the cup to her lips and drained the coffee cup completely, ignoring the bitterness and the burning pain in her throat. When she set the cup back down, it took every bit of will to keep the tears from her eyes and the quaver from her voice. But she had faced men more frightening than Jacob with an ice-cold demeanor, and by God she would do it again.

"I understand," she said finally in a voice devoid of emotion. "I should not have asked, I apologize. It was inappropriate, considering we've been strangers for longer than we were ever acquainted. You have no reason to trust me over your current employer. But luckily there's no shortage of muscle in this town, I'm sure I'll have no trouble hiring someone else." Molly reached into the pocket of her coat, pulling out a gold watch on a chain. She wasn't just pretending to check the time; the bauble had been an heirloom of her late mother's, and often in times of stress she found comfort in feeling the smooth metal between her fingers.

The blonde woman rose to her feet. "I'm afraid I'll need to get going now, it's getting a bit late, and I have a lot of work to do. It's been fun though." The smile she gave him was as thin and false as a paper Halloween mask in December, and when she leaned over to kiss his cheek it was so passionless that not even a hint of lipstick was left behind. "You know where to find me if you change your mind of course. Remember to bring the flower if you come visit, security may not let you in otherwise." Molly's throat felt like it was swollen shut, and she could feel needle-like tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Good night," she managed to choke out, then turned and nearly ran for the door. She only paused on the way to press a dollar into a bewildered-looking Heidi's hand, and then she was gone.

"Miss, wait!" A new voice called.

A girl in a dingy green coat rose up from her seat at the counter, then went to pick something up from the floor near the door. It was one of Molly's black leather gloves, which had probably escaped her pocket while she was fishing for the bill in her pocket. But it was no use; the glove's owner was already getting into a dieselcab headed back to the Village.

Turning around, the girl looked back towards the booth where Jacob was sitting alone. She was tall, not astoundingly beautiful but naturally pretty, without a trace of makeup on her freckled oval face. Her light brown hair was tied in a loose knot on the back of her head, and she had the large friendly brown eyes of a domesticated animal. It was hard to determine her figure beneath the oversized coat, but one might have assumed she was a bit more curvy than was the current trend, although underneath she had a pair of long, well-toned legs encased in thick stockings and sensible white shoes. Her nose was straight and small but her mouth was rather wide, with corners that curved up and gave her a slightly mischievous, trying-not-to-laugh expression.

"Excuse me," she interrupted in the high-voweled accent of the midwestern US, approaching the man sitting alone. "I think your friend dropped this." The girl held Molly's glove out towards him, and her eyes widened at the realization he was not 100% flesh and blood.

"Oh my!" the girl gasped, looking at his arm. "Is that a Holzer Augment? I haven't seen a prosthetic like that since leaving Europe. May I take a closer look?" Realizing the absurdity of the question, she blushed suddenly, then began to open her coat. "I'm sorry sir, I don't mean to be nosy. It's just that I work down at the Veterans' Hospital." Pushing back her coat somewhat, she revealed the white dress of a nurse, somewhat mussed and stained after what must have been a full day's work. "A lot of my patients lost limbs in the war. We're trying to get all of them outfitted with augments like that, but...well, you know how the government can be when it comes to paying out their dues," she added with a laugh.
 
Jacob's eyes slowly narrowed near the end of his explanation. What he was seeing on Molly face was... Something new. Something, that he hadn't seen from her before. Not in his presence, at least. A coldness, that was so piercing, so unbearable to him, that he found himself choking a bit on his last words. Like an animal, treading needles, but never stopping, of fear of being caught. It probably caused him to babble a little longer than he'd intended, and what should've been necessary in the first place. He was doing a horrible job. Missing so many important notes. Important things he had to say to her, to fully understand why he didn't want to work for her.

And as she started replying, a cold chill ran through his heart, sending a shiver down his spine as he slowly shook his head, lowering it as he grimaced.
"N. No, I don't think that you do." He muttered, as she continued, closing his eyes as she finished the first, piercing words. "It's. It's not that. Come on, you weren't listening at all, beyond the no, did you?" He complained in a weak sigh, looking back up to her, as she checked her watch. It was no use. She'd already been offended. Or, whatever had caused her to stir up this badly. There was no rectifying that now.

"Don't. Don't leave like this, Molly, come on. Let..." He started out, but quickly saw it was no use, groaning softly as he lowered his head, shaking it again as he heard Molly waltz off. He raised his left hand to itch his face, registering another voice calling out, but ignoring it completely. He itched hard, his fingers digging into his tough skin, sneering lightly at himself, before slamming his fist against the table, muttering a curse-word without sound. What didn't he say? How didn't it come out, that he was afraid of himself? Why didn't he mention that he constantly lived in fear, working for Le'Fleur, that he would rip a man's head off, if they did something too terrible? Coat the Saloon in blood and guts, because they'd hurt one of Le'Fleur's girls? He'd do that for a stranger. What the fuck would I be ready to do for Moe? How many people would he kill, if something went wrong before someone could calm him down? The War had found a rage in him, and what would happen if that really got let loose? Would he be able to stop himself, when he got started? When blood started spilling? Would he end up hurting Molly herself?

Fuck, why didn't I just say that!?

Jacob jumped slightly, hearing a voice by his side, looking up in surprise. For a moment, he made no effort to hide his scars, but quickly rectified that as he looked down to the glove. He sighed softly, about to explain that she'd probably be just as likely to get it back to her, as he would. He doubted Molly would want to see him for quite a while.
But he was interrupted, as the woman said a designation, he hadn't heard in a long time, causing him to narrow his eyes slightly, looking up to the stranger. In doing so, his eyes took a full glimpse of who he'd been joined by, just in passing, and wasn't displeased with what he saw. Not the 'refined' beauty that Molly was(or always would seem to him) but a pretty girl, none-the-less.

It was probably Jacob's confused, and surprised expression, that caused the woman to apologize for her nosiness so quickly, and blush so sweetly. In opening up his coat, seeing her uniform hidden bellow, Jacob's brows raised a bit again, his tensed shoulder, having tried to keep his collar in the way of his scars, starting to relax a bit. As she explained her profession, he knew that she'd probably seen worse than what he'd become. He was, at least, relatively fixable. That he'd have to live with scars, that could scare away most children and adults alike, was still easier than no legs, or missing parts.

"No worries." Jacob started, a weak smile on his lips, heart still rather heavy with Molly's sudden exit, looking down to his hand. "That's... That's some very keen eyes, Miss. Used to be a Holzer, yeah. Heavily augmented, though. Probably wouldn't know its original creator, if it met her." He chuckled softly, flexing and tensing the fingers of the prosthetic. "It's the Holzer Skeleton, but I got it early on, in the war. Now, it's probably more of a Browning. The Holzer was, and is a great prosthetic, but it had some short-comings. At least, in the eyes of the people who wanted us to be killing machines." Jacob frowned slightly, with a soft sigh, looking up to the woman for a moment.

"Sure. Let me just..." He started, moving his hand down by his side, raising the hand backwards a bit. "I hardly trust this thing with my life, these days." He mumbled, as a low chunk, and puff from steam being release, announced the arrival of a ten inch long blade, pulling out from his wrist. With his other hand, he detached it with another, lower chunking sound, placing the sharp knife in his bag. He turned his hand around, clicking something, causing another low chunk, as something shot out from the back of his wrist as well. It had the resemblance of a magazine, but it wasn't obvious what bullets it used, other than it wasn't standard issue.

Putting the magazine away in his bag as well, he finally raised his hand again, smiling lightly to the stranger. Instead of reaching out his prosthetic, however, he raised his right hand, presenting it for a formal handshake.
"Nice to meet you, Miss. Jacob." He introduced himself, shaking her hand if she gave it. He held out his good hand towards the now vacant seat in front of him, as he reached out his prosthetic. "It is a bit on the fritz, lately. I can clench with the crushing force Browning intended, but it get's itself stuck, sometimes. Luckily, of course, I don't exactly have to do that a lot, these days." He chuckled lightly through his nose. Even as he talked, it seemed like more of a defensive measure. Like talking, was helping his heavy heart. And... In truth, it was.
 
"Well thank goodness we don't need our boys to be killing machines anymore," the nurse replied, her brown eyes still fixated on his arm. "What we need is to start putting some of them back together again. A Holzer's still better than no arm at all, isn't it?"

When she looked up and saw his hand extended, the girl shook it vigorously and broke into a fresh smile. "I'm Rosie. Rosie Kleinschmidt. Well, Roseline if you're my mother and you're miffed at me, but I much prefer to be called Rosie. You're sure you don't mind if I join you?" She slid into the booth across from him just the same. "I don't want to disturb you, but I'd love to ask you more about your arm. Those chuckleheads down at the V.A..." Rosie huffed and shook her head vigorously. "Now that the war's over they don't even want to consider giving the vets augments of any kind, steam or diesel. Too expensive, they say. But I say: what about the cost of all those lives lost over in Europe? Augments are a drop in the bucket compared to that. Don't we owe some kind of a life to the ones that came back?"

For a moment, a shadow passed over the girl's friendly, freckled face; a look of heartbreaking sadness as she no doubt remembered someone who'd gone overseas and never returned. It was a look a lot of women her age wore these days, but as time passed they would eventually fade for most.

But not all.

Still, when Heidi passed by and Rosie raised her hand to ask for a cup of coffee, the smile and curious look in her eyes returned as she turned her gaze back to Jacob. "If you'll forgive my nosiness, where were you stationed?" she continued, pouring enough cream and sugar into her cup to turn the drink only the palest shade of brown. "I was based at a hospital in Boulogne--nursing corps. you know--until about six months ago. I'm still not sure how I feel about New York, but it sure beats trying to assist in surgery with bombs coming down all around you. Now we just have to deal with an old battle-axe of a head nurse and a bunch of skinflint bureaucrats too cheap to give a guy a decent prosthetic."

"Oh, but I'm babbling. I'm so sorry, Jacob," Rosie blushed again, taking a deep drink of her overly sweetened coffee. "Folks back home always said I talk too much. Please, don't mind me. I really do want to more about your arm though. If you didn't have some of the ah...extra features," She raised her pale eyebrows to emphasize the more military aspects of his prosthetic. "What do you think something like that might cost? On the private market?" The government could of course get certain pieces dirt cheap, but if the price for laymen wasn't astounding, there was a chance the V.A. might be open to being a little bit more generous.

"As a side note," the nurse glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then leaned in close to Jacob. "I happen to know that prosthetic like that--the kind with firepower--needs a special permit in New York. It's not my business to ask of course, but if it really is giving you trouble--getting stuck and things like that--you might want to see about getting one. I know a guy," she whispered, slipping him a little wink, then leaning back. "Of course I know a couple mechanics who can help for a fair price as well, but they're pretty backlogged, and from what I hear, not all that great. I'm a complete dunce about machines myself, but as far as I can tell it must take some pretty intricate knowledge."

*****
​
While Jacob and Rosie were getting acquainted in the cozy light of the diner, Molly was sitting alone in a silent diesel cab slowly chugging its way to Greenwich Village. She had finally allowed the tears to fall, streaking pale lines though her makeup, but her lips were pressed firmly shut. On more than one occasion she had considered opening the door of the cab and jumping out, then sprinting back to the diner where she could only pray Jacob was still waiting. She would throw her arms around his neck, press her face in his chest, beg for his forgiveness just so he would hold her again, smile at her and whisper "Moe" in her ear in the way that made her quiver all the way to her core.

But what good would it do?

She might get a fuck out of it at the end of the night. And in the morning, he would go back to Le'Fleur's, and she would hate it. He would continue to barely scrape by, while spending all of his time looking after loose women who would just take advantage of his good nature, while Molly would still be scrambling to find a liquor supplier, and security for Vera's party on Saturday, and a halfway-decent entertainer for New Year's, and the thousand other tasks that filled her time. Jacob couldn't help her on that front (or wouldn't), and at the end of the day, the club was all that mattered. Without it, what was she? Just another penniless heiress who'd be no good to anybody.

So she couldn't have Jacob, no matter how much she might want him (and God she could feel how bad she wanted him, she could practically smell it). Couldn't buy him, couldn't beg him, could barely even borrow him from Le'Fleur. If she kept trying, it was just going to cause her more heartbreak, and that was a distraction she couldn't afford right now. She had to forget about him, come hell or high water.

Luckily, as she ascended the stairs to her apartment, there was something in the icebox that would help. Pulling out a clear, unlabeled bottle, she poured some of its contents into a small glass, and swallowed the entire contents in a single gulp. Fuck, Johnny gets such good shit Molly thought as she poured herself another glass of the vodka, thinking of the big Russian who occasionally gifted her a bottle out of respect for their working relationship. Johnny was the guy she called for help when she couldn't ask Big Frieda or any of her family, when she didn't want to bother Don Scacco or any of the other mobsters who occasionally frequented the Box. He was an easy man to work with: give him the money up front, and he'd do anything she asked. Anything...

After her third shot, Molly staggered over to the table near the door where her elegant black phone was waiting temptingly. After a slurred argument with the operator, she finally heard a gruffly accented "Hello?" on the other end.

"Johnny? It's me. Say, I know it's late, but I need your help with something..."
 
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Jacob looked up to Rosie, as she mused that we didn't need killing machines anymore, but just normal, functioning people. A small smile suggested he'd like to believe that, but part of him knew, the government wouldn't allow things to be quite for long. There'd always be money in war, and people who had that, was so darn unlikely to cut down on income, and just live with what they had. They'd always want more. More, and then more on top. It's what he feared most about Molly, at this time. That it'd become all about money, which it never had been. That money would eventually come between them as well. There was already so much splitting them apart, it seemed.

For a moment, he'd lost himself in his thoughts, before Rosie introduced herself, and brought him back into the moment. He nodded, holding a hand towards the seat she soon slipped into.
"Please do, Miss Kleinschmidt. If anything, I could do with a bit of company right now." He smiled, returning his hand to his cup. "Roseline. Hm. Shame your mother took the charm of that for you. Pretty name." He complimented, lowering his eyes down to his coffee, turning the cup a few times against its saucer. He turned towards his arm, head tilted lightly as he opened the palm, looking at the visible mechanisms of it. He pouted lightly with a nod, raising the hand to itch his chin.
"Also, if they'd just give Veterans a hand, more of them would find it easier to get a job. Pay their taxes. The money would return to their pockets." He stated, chuckling lightly through his nose, narrowing his eyes a bit. "No... Pun, really intended, but guess that landed pretty well?" He laughed, shaking his head a few times. "But the Gov's all about short-term solutions. And, skimping out on Vets, spares them a lot of dough, in the moment." He sighed softly, lifting his cup.

As he sipped from his coffee, he noticed the look that darkened Rosie's gentle features for a moment, pausing with his cup before his lips for a moment. He sipped with a light frown, knowing it all too well, lowering his head again as he did the coffee, and let Rosie continue.
"Boulogne? Probably saw to a few of my boys, when we passed by." He smiled, nodding his head a few times, eyes still somewhat downcast, but slowly starting to move further up, meeting hers more often. They were easy to look in, her talkative, sweet nature making it easy to warm up to her. "My Company followed the Frontlines, as it moved, all the way to the Amiens, and even a bit into the talks. Word came so damn slow, on the field, and we were still losing boys, when peace was already meant to be in effect." He mumbled slightly, shaking his head a single time. "Gues a crux of being good at what you do, is that you'll be used to you're no longer of use." He added, chuckling lightly through his nose. Many a time, he'd considered ordering his men to calm their arms, and mess up on purpose. Just to lessen their value in the eyes of the taller colors. But, he never did. It was the one thing his boys and girls had. Each other, their aim and their wits.

"Nursing Corps? In Boulogne?" Jacob paused for a moment, a small smile. "The boys had other names for you guys. Saints of Boulogne? The few boys in my Company who passed through your Hospital, came back with invigorated smiles. Your girls gave us hope. A lot of respect to your work out there." He mused with a small nod, as he let her continue. Rosie definitely seemed to like the sound of her own voice, but then again, so did Jacob. He didn't mind. He liked conversing with someone, who seemed to have nothing to hide. Who seemed willing to share everything. A very rare feat, in a city like New York.
Her mention of the bombs, had him darken for a second, not enough to really be noticed. He was happy to hear that they'd stopped for her. For him, it hadn't. He still heard 'the Drums'. Every time he closed his eyes for too long. Every time he tried to sleep. In his dreams. In his Nightmares. Bombs. The heavy footsteps of the German walkers. Noises, he feared would never truly leave his mind.

"You do talk a lot, Rosie." He agreed with her 'folks back home', with a pleasant smile. "But, I don't mind." He admitted, letting her continue, now coming back on his arm. He looked down to the prosthetic, narrowing his eyes for a moment. He let her continue as he considered her initial question, looking back up as she mentioned her little offer. He hadn't even been told that they required a permit. Hadn't even crossed his mind to ask. He figured he wasn't told, in the hopes he might be caught with it, and forced to pay a fine. Another drop of dough, in the Government coffers.

"Hm, tempting offer. I'm. Hoping I can keep it handled, still. Lost a lot of my past ingenuity, since the war, but I've managed decently so far. As for a permit. Think I'd be interested in taking you up on that offer." He admitted, looking up shortly with a smile, before turning back down towards his hand, looking thoughtful as he took the last sip of his coffee.
"As for price? Hmm. Diesel, definitely a lot cheaper up front, but more expensive in the long run, to keep fueled. And, more hungry than the good old Steam-Puffers, like mine." He pouted, moving a hand to play with one of the protruding cogs of the hand, causing a finger to move as he did. "But, we don't all need full function, right? I sure wouldn't need this, if I hadn't gotten it to fight their dirty war. If cut down on function? Number of fingers? Think the price could be cut down pretty heavily. Maybe even all the way down to twenty, maybe twenty five dollars, if you didn't want to make a profit? thirty, thirty five, if you did." He estimated, from his experience with scrap. "Maybe you could even punch the price down further, if costumers could make requests for specific functions? If, for example, the buyer don't need the thumb, but just wants gripping power? That'd be much cheaper, the functionality of a thumb definitely the most expensive part." He explained. No average Vet would be able to pay that much, but it might be cheap enough, that philanthropes might be willing to spill the money for it.

With every word he said, he realized... Ideas were actually popping up. Ways to create prosthetics, from the kind of scrap he'd played with as a child. Remembering things he'd had to work with, and made little machines, for fun applications. Ways how he could've made those little machines, actual prosthetics. He hadn't seen ideas like this for a long time, and a light seemed to flare up in his face, his smile growing a little wider the more he thought.

"Well. I answered a few of your questions... Your turn?" He smirked. "Grow up here?" He asked, getting himself a bit more comfortable, while still holding his arm out, for her to continue observing if she wanted to. "You definitely don't feel as gruff around the edges, as the toughies I've come to know from around here. Not that my line-up of acquaintances is particularly long, but still." He commented, smiling a rather constant smile, even with the darkness that still lingered at the back of his mind.
 
Rosie squinted her eyes at him a moment, her long lashes almost obscuring her vision completely. "You're teasing me, aren't you?" she remarked in false indignance, then tossed her head playfully. "I suppose I deserve it. If it's any comfort though, you're preaching to the choir about giving some of the boys a literal hand. Gosh, so many of my patients just want to work, you know? I know some boys who would dig ditches for a dime if they could just pick up a shovel. A lot of us nurses have tried to set up a petition and get the word out about how shoddy things are at the hospital, but then they started firing us left and right. That's one thing I've got going for me," Rosie admitted with a sheepish look on her face. "If my job's on the line, I definitely know when to shut up. Around the right people, at least."

For a moment, a fleeting look of suspicion passed over her face, and a wondering glance as if Jacob might not be a secret agent for Head Nurse Callahan, trying to ferret out dissent among the ranks of nurses. Then she shrugged; if it was a vet that got her fired for doing the right thing, she could go to her grave with that if she had to. As long as it wasn't some sneaking, grasping old miser who didn't give a fig for the guys who laid down their lives while they were home making gangbusters on tanks and beans. Ideally though, Rosie planned to stick around until the ward was completely empty and every guy had gone home healthy.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a stubby, tooth-marked pencil and a little pad of paper. "Here's the guy you'll want to see about a permit," she explained, writing the name 'TURNER - BOGDAN'S BUTCHER SHOP - 1st & Houston' on the pad. "He's not going to charge you anything. He knows it's a crock of you-know-what that guys with pieces like yours are being scammed through the system. His son-in-law works for the city and shares the same opinion, so don't worry, it'll be official and everything." Rosie then proceeded to write two more names on the paper: 'Maria Pirolli - 14 & 7' and 'Archie Madden - 800 Park'. "These are the two you can see about getting some work done, if you want. Like I said, they aren't the best or the quickest, but they are the cheapest. Dear old Mama Maria doesn't even charge fellas half the time, but if you think I'm a chatterbox..." With a grin she tore off the sheet of paper, folded it in half, then slid it across the table to Jacob.

As she replaced the pad in the pocket of her dress though, she realized the last two names night not even have been necessary. "Gosh, you sure know a lot about those things, don't you? You should be the one talking to those government fellas writing the checks. They might actually listen to you." Even if they did though, that wouldn't help the cost. Rosie let out a low whistle at the numbers Jacob was throwing at her. She knew at least twenty guys in her ward who could have used an augment of some kind, be it an arm, leg, hand or foot. At twenty-five dollars a pop that'd be five hundred dollars at least, and the army wasn't even done shipping boys back from overseas yet. Rosie let out a heavy sigh, then forced her chin up and tried to shrug it off.

"Well, some of the girls have been talking about holding a charity dance or two to raise some money for the boys. One of those dime-a-dance affairs, you know? Of course, I don't really go in for all that. Where I come from, if we're going to have a fundraiser we usually hold a bake sale down at the Lutheran Church, or maybe have a community auction to get rid of some of the junk in people's attics. Seems kind of...well, not very ladylike to charge fellas to dance with you," she admitted. "But if it'll do some good for our boys, I suppose even I can stand for it, though I might have to just work the door. I've got two left feet, you see. All my grace went into my hands, thank goodness!"

She looked aghast when Jacob began to ask about her, then let out a laugh when he asked if she was a native to the city. "Golly, me? From New York City? Gosh no," she laughed. "But I'll take it as a compliment you think so. All the women in this town are so sophisticated. Like that friend of yours that dropped her glove. She looks like some kind of movie star." If Jacob had any reaction to the mention of Molly, Rosie didn't notice it. "No sir, I'm from Weyauwega, Wisconsin. My folks are dairy farmers. Before Boulogne, and here, the only other place I've ever been was the nursing school at the University of Wisconsin, and as soon as that was done I volunteered to join the nursing corps. Thought I'd see the world, and well maybe..."

Rosie's gaze dropped into her empty coffee cup as she tried to stifle that same look of sadness. "I...had a guy, you see. We were engaged when he got shipped out. I had this dumb idea I'd find him over there but he'd been killed at Ypres a few weeks before I arrived." Her knuckles were white as she gripped at the handle of the cup, and for several moments her tongue was completely still. Poor Benji...she still wrote to his parents sometimes, but she just couldn't bring herself to head back to the frozen farm fields of the bitter north to see them, or even her own family. If she saw the river where they used to skip stones together, or the fields where they had walked home from school, or her daddy's barn where she had almost given him everything (but they'd thankfully been interrupted by her pesky little sister before they could do anything really bad), Rosie was sure she would break down in tears and never stop.

It was better to be here, in a city full of strangers where she knew Benjamin had never stepped foot. Besides, she had work to keep her busy, and if she couldn't save Benji himself, she could at least make things easier for some of his brothers in arms.

"But anyways, New York is definitely an interesting place, and I've gotten to meet all sorts of people. I might go home next summer to see how everyone is doing then, but for now I think I'll stick around for a while. At least until I ask the wrong person the wrong question and the V.A. sends me packing," Rosie giggled.
 
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