Roof Second Floor Lobby Back Door

Baxter Pflumn 'ey kid, watcha name? ::Glances up at you and frowns a bit. He’s not used to speaking for himself so he hesitates.:: That depends. What name do you want? My first? Middle? Last? All three? Ok, they called me Amory Baxter Pflumn back home, but you don’t need to use the whole thing. Takes too much time. 'ave you been blessed wit a newsie nickname yet? ::Shrugs.:: Haven’t been a newsie long ‘nuff to get one. Though my twin sister, Liese calls me Baxter or Bax. So yeah, call me Baxter. ::Grins and chuckles with amusement.:: Liese is a strange one, she is. Have you met her yet? ::Glances at you, eyebrows raised. Shakes his head.:: We’re twins but we’re nothing alike. Where'd dat come from, anyway? ::Frowns.:: Liese, I told you, didn’t I? When's yer birthday? Know how old ya are? ::Grins suddenly, shifting his legs on the bunk so that they’re swinging over the side.:: I couldn’t forget. I’m 10, born April 12, in the Chautaqua Valley up north. Not Germany, like most people think on account of my name. My folks were from Germany, but not me. I’m American. Whatcha look like? ::Shrugs.:: You’re welcome to look, I’m sitting right in front of you, aren’t I? ::Grins and you appreciate his slow smile. Almost like he must fully contemplate the situation before deciding whether or not it amuses him. He has messy brown hair, matted under a gray cap, and shimmering green eyes that reflect his true comical personality much more adequately than does his present attitude. You get the impression he’s secretly mischievous, but doesn’t wish to broadcast it through his initial actions. He has small roundish ears, broad lips and an average nose, and though he’s a mere ten, reaches a height of 4’8’’ to the chagrin of his smaller twin sister. He’s wearing faded, dark-gray knickers and a white shirt, complete with suspenders and worn boots. He looks at you, pointedly.:: Finished? And wadda ya like, huh? Got mucha a personality? ::Grins.:: My sister’s the one with the personality. I’m the one who usually gets us out of scrapes. The kind adults like to trust, though they don’t know I’m usually right there causing trouble with the rest of ‘em. ::Grins almost wickedly. Your previous impression was correct.:: So... where'd ya come from an' watcha doin heah? ::Shakes his head, not wanting to unleash hidden emotions.:: My folks died last year, and we had to go live with my aunt in Hoboken. She was rotten, so we left and came here. Papa said something a while ago about a cousin we had who lived in Harlem, but we don’t know anything about him. ::Looks up, grinning hopefully.:: Maybe he’s rich and he finds us one day and we don’t have to live out here no more. It could happen, couldn’t it? Don't s'ppose ya got any friends, do ya? ::Shrugs.:: Liese, and then there’s this kid from Washington Heights she’s made friends with…..Jamie, I think. What about a, uh, signifigant othah, hmm? *wink wink nudge nudge* ::Rolls his eyes. It’s too much and he begins to laugh.:: Girls? Liese’s enough to handle. I don’t need ‘em. Waddya do 'round heah? ::Grins.:: Keep out of trouble. Liese gets us into it, I get us out. If ya emptied ya pockets right now, what'd be in 'em? ::Reaches into his pockets to find out.:: A dime and a marble. ::Grins.:: Got anything I could put in ‘em? Anythin' else we oughta know? Nothin else, unless you count the fact that I sleepwalk sometimes. ::Chuckles.:: Though I’m not really asleep, I’m just jittery at night. ::Waves you off.:: Bye, catch ya later! Back to the bunkroom