"Huh...." Crutchie considers the name, then brightens up.
"I think I heard Miss Plumber mention that name! Somethin' like Edward Vance. Scoop's just a nickname! I'm pretty sure he works here. You should go in!"
Crutchie Morris / rp account
"Let's see . . ." He opens the paper with a flourish, flicking his wrists, the paper rustling in his hands. "Scoop Vance. What kind of a nickname is *Scoop* . . . ? Reporters for you, eh?"
Crutchie does so, checking every so often to make sure the man is following him. He brings him to the offices of The Sun first, stopping at the great stone steps and looking up.
“D’you know who wrote the article?”
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄.
Crutchie Morris / rp account
"Call me Rathore. Lead the way, *Crutchie*!"
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄.
Crutchie catches it and pockets it along with the rest of the money he's made from selling papers. He nods with a smile.
"Crutchie Morris, sir," he returns. "Do you got a name, or should I jus' use 'sir'?"
Crutchie Morris / rp account
"A rather big 'if'. Alright then," he says, tossing the boy the coin. "And there's more if the information's useful. Do you have a name, boy?"
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄.
“Maybe the reporter who wrote the article?” Crutchie points out, a little obnoxiously. He eyes the tossed coin eagerly.
“… who I could bring ya to, if they work at The World or The Sun, mistah.”
Crutchie Morris / rp account
There's a case coming. Rathore can feel it on the hairs on the back of his neck and hands. He takes another coin from his pocket, tossing it pointedly. "And, uh . . . D'you know who might know if it is?"
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄.
“Well, it is unexpected,” Crutchie admits, scratching the back of his neck. “Folks is sayin’ more heiresses are next. That this lady was ransomed and her pa paid a pretty penny… only not to see her at all.”
He shrugs.
“But that’s just the news, sir. Dunno if it’s true.”
Crutchie Morris / rp account
Rathore flicks through the paper, skimming the story. "I'm not so sure myself. It's not their modus operandi." He looks up at the vendor, now a little interested. "What else are folks saying?"
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄.
Crutchie smiles innocently at the idea of some boss telling him to sell for a higher price. His only boss is himself! And he just got this fella, hook line and sinker.
“Yes sir, all the way from Rochester! Folks is sayin’ the MOB kidnapped her!”
Crutchie Morris / rp account
*how much*?!
well . . . alright. ( taking some change from his pocket and handing it over: ) but you should *tell your bosses* that there's *no news* worth thirty--
( reading the headline. ) though perhaps i spoke too soon. a missing heiress, mmm?
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄.
Oh yes sir!
That’ll be thirty cents, thank you sir.
Crutchie Morris / rp account
If I do, will you stop *shouting*?
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄.
Won’t anyone buy a paper from a POOR, ORPHAN BOY?
Yeah, that’s right. That was my line first.
