Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Seized-Smallsper

Truth be told, no matter how cool—how much of a supreme example of punk rock—they seemed, Smalls' bandmates were terrible at picking up girls.

It seemed their charisma ended as soon as they walked off of the stage, as if it was a mask placed on for the sole purpose of entertaining, and it was; but Smalls was looking to hit home run with a girl, and it seemed her friends were throwing terrible pitches.

"So, I heard you work in finance", Emma or Emily grinned, offering a level of interest Smalls just couldn't. She clearly was pretty, adorned in red lipstick and dark purple eyeshadow, but Smalls didn't feel like she was clicking with her. Besides, she didn't work in finance—Smalls worked at the record store on Third and part-time at Spot's garage. "What's the most interesting part of that?"

"I wouldn't know", Smalls shrugged, and she could see the confused look on her face. "I've never set foot in a corporate...anything, really. I shop locally and I work locally, too. So..."

E-name's face contorted into one of slight annoyance, and Smalls didn't mean for her words to come across as shameful. She couldn't care less where people spent their money, or didn't spend it—"Steal if you have to" was her personal motto, but she knew that annoyed people. She knew some people, outside of her scene and inside of it, hated the idea of breaking the law almost as much as they hated people surviving, and that didn't sit right with her.

She could tell Emile, or whatever, was more into having a poser, financially focused girlfriend more than someone who really knew what the hell they were talking about, just from the way she said finance. It wasn't a bad goal to have, but what exactly was Emerson going to bring to the table? As much as she loves spoiling her partners, she wasn't going to be the sole provider with two jobs and no college degree.

"I'm gonna get another drink", Esmeralda declared kindly enough, and Smalls noticed she didn't offer anything to her. She wasn't disappointed to watch her walk away. Hotshot seemed to be, though.

"Hey", he greeted worriedly, brows furrowed in confusion as Smalls took the drink from his hand and downed it. "What happened? She seemed really interested."

"One of you told her I was in finances", Smalls accused, and Hotshot rolled his eyes. They both knew who it was—Spot. "We would've spent the night talking about that, so we went our separate ways."

Now Hotshot's frustration was toward her. "So you didn't give her a chance."

Smalls shrugged, tapping the empty glass in front of her. She knows she promised to make it through the night completely sober, but it was hard to do that in these spaces—too many bodies in a small room, all of whom are drunk or looking to get there. She only needed a little to calm her down, and get her to build up the courage to speak to any woman two feet from her. Or, reject them.

Hotshot sighed and took his place beside her, knocking her arm with his hand. "You're picky, dude."

"I just don't want a relationship built on lies", Smalls hummed, scanning the room. "If it helps, she wasn't my type anyway. I'm not really into femmes. No problem dating if we get along, but I have an ideal woman in my head just like most people."

"I actually have an ideal man in my head, babe."

"Shut up."

Hotshot laughed, throwing his head back as Smalls quirked a small smile. "I get what you're saying though. We all have our princes, princesses, and knights we hope to run away with one day."

Smalls nodded, glancing at her co-writer and guitarist. The both of them were single and lonely together, but Smalls more so—Hotshot was handsome, and he knew it, as well did everyone else. His physical loneliness lasted just a few hours, but Smalls knew more; she knew he was looking for someone for life, just as she was.