dreamer.

        i ain't gettin' any younger, and i wanna start brand new!  i need space, and fresh air  ----  let 'em laugh in my face, i don't care!  save my place, i'll be there.    //    INDEPENDENT JACK KELLY OF BROADWAY'S NEWSIES.  revamped and written by dean.

        ❝ all i'm tellin' you's the truth  ----  every last word we could fit on the page. ❞  there's a theatrical shrug to his shoulders, dismissive of any protests.  of course, he knows that everything's he's been saying is a tall tale, spun out of necessity and wishing to wriggle out of this girl's questions before they get to be too much.  he's hardly likely to lose track of what he's already spun  ----  something about a burning building and intrepid firemen, screaming workers and someone rescuing a dog out of somebody's penthouse  ----  but that doesn't stop him from wishing she'd move on.  there's other people to give the rest of his bag to, however little is left at the end of the day, but he won't go back until it's empty.  ❝ you don't believe me, you're gonna have t'read it yourself. ❞

        ❝ you  ----  you really do somethin' damn special up there, miss wheeler.  wouldn't believe it if somebody'd told me. ❞  there's admiration in his voice, bright as his eyes.  it's infectious, maybe  ----  contagious, caught in the sight of the aerialist swirling somewhere above just moments before, captured in pages that had spread over his lap.  it wasn't as much as he'd have wanted  ----  constantly in motion, she was difficult to capture and put to paper, difficult to pin down in anything other than loose strokes, barely stopping long enough for jack to finish anything more than gestures.  maybe he's done enough to disturb her by just being around, but it wasn't like he hadn't been hired for it.  ❝ it's gonna be nothin' like seein' you do half that stuff in person, but it's sure gettin' close. ❞

        ❝ miss feodorovna? ❞  there's barely a stumble in his speech, and a sense of achievement causes him to bounce slightly on the balls of feet, rocking backwards gently.  call it years of living around dozens of foreign languages, but if it helps his unfamiliar presence find a foothold in this part of the theatre complex, he's happy with it.  oftentimes, jack's duties were relegated to backstage  ----  kept in different doors, a shop that whirled with paint, filled to the rafters with the ever-present stench  ( albeit a familiar one that he hardly noticed, if he didn't pay attention )  of wood and varnish.  this time, however, duty bites into his hip, his shoulder as a camera strap, heavy against his side.  perhaps not his normal forte, but there was nothing to do but go ahead.  ❝ the, uh, normal guy's sick.  department's willin' to take anybody who knows how t'use one a camera.  i'm not anythin' special, but i  ----  i'm still here for the headshots, if you want 'em. ❞

        this isn't my first rodeo with jack, and while i'll be working today  ----  nine-thirty to three  ----  mutuals can hit the heart for a starter and/or plotting!

        so...  is 'long time, no see' too cliché?