Roof Second Floor Lobby Back Door

Matthew Riley 'ey kid, what's yer name? *brushes hair out of eyes and grins* Matthew Ethan Riley, pleased to meet you. 'ave you been blessed wit a newsie nickname yet? *he shakes his head* nope. Maybe someday. Everyone seems to have one but me… Where'd dat come from, anyway? *sigh* I ain't gonna say anything. *looks around, bored* When's yer birthday? Know how old ya are? I was born on August 18. I'm nine. Whatcha look like? My dad was Hispanic, so I've got dark hair and and I tan easily. My eyes are violet...I'm not really tall, but I'm guessing I'll grow more, since I'm only 4'4". I've got black hair that's kinda curly, more like wavy, and it's long, cause I haven't had a haircut in a while. And wadda ya like, huh? Got mucha a personality? I'm protective of Molly. She's all I got left.. Some people think it's weird that Molly and I can talk silently. *shrugs* But it's not like I'm an old stick in the mud or anything. I also like having fun. Like that time we got into that water fight with those other kids, or when we switched the salt and sugar... So... where'd ya come from an' watcha doin heah? *looks down and draws little nothings in the dirt* We used to live in a nice place over in the Bronx. It burned down, she we got shoved into an orphanage. After a while, we got tired of it and left. We just wandered around New York until someone suggested we check out this place, and here we are. Don't s'ppose ya got any friends, do ya? We haven't been here that long, but everyone seems nice. What about a, uh, signifigant othah, hmm? *wink wink nudge nudge* *he looks at you like you're crazy* I'm only nine! Waddya do 'round heah? *snort* I sell newspapers. What else? I sell with my sister. She just holds out a paper to a person and I tell them our story-- adding a few details, mind you-- and they buy it. It's great! You should watch it some time. If ya emptied ya pockets right now, what'd be in 'em? *crosses arms* Why do ya wanna know? *after a minute, sighs* Alright, alright. I've got a pencil stub, an old ticket to Medda's, and a scrap of paper. Anythin' else we oughta know? *he looks around, then speaks quietly* well, I have an idea that our house *wasn't* just and accident, but it might just be my wild imagination. Back to the bunkroom