"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?"
πππππππ.
βMaybe the reporter who wrote the article?β Crutchie points out, a little obnoxiously. He eyes the tossed coin eagerly.
ββ¦ who I could bring ya to, if they work at The World or The Sun, mistah.β
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?"
πππππππ.
βWell, it is unexpected,β Crutchie admits, scratching the back of his neck. βFolks is sayinβ more heiresses are next. That this lady was ransomed and her pa paid a pretty pennyβ¦ only not to see her at all.β
He shrugs.
βBut thatβs just the news, sir. Dunno if itβs true.β
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?"
πππππππ.
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.
βYes sir, all the way from Rochester! Folks is sayinβ the MOB kidnapped her!β
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?
πππππππ.
Oh yes sir!
Thatβll be thirty cents, thank you sir.
Crutchie Morris / rp account
If I do, will you stop *shouting*?
πππππππ.
Wonβt anyone buy a paper from a POOR, ORPHAN BOY?
Yeah, thatβs right. That was my line first.
