`and we'll fight like *twenty Armies {Open/Casual}

[gavroche]

<sup>The day was chilly, unrelenting in it's search for an exposed finger, toe, or nose as the wind let out a melancholy moan, the breeze whistling in an exposed ear. The streets were lined with grime and muck, with still smoldering cigarette butts lined as soldiers in the cracks of an uncaring sidewalk, mindless to whoever might step upon it, or lie upon it, wishing that the concrete would give way to a softer material; perchance wood or the unthinkable - a cotton mattress. The day had long since died, leaving behind no traces of the natural light that had once granted the city with it's charming aura of endless opportunity and resolve.

No, it was under the neon lights where the true nature of the city was revealed. Tubed lights cast unnatural shadows on all who passed by, calling out to patrons of the night. Signs such as 'Closed' or 'Gentlemen's Club' were common sights, with more rowdy bunches of people hanging about the latter. It was hard to navigate this stretch of street without having to dodge the more-than-occasional drunk or clumping of less than model citizens, but for the street urchin, it was a cakewalk. After all, this was Gavroche's patch. It wasn't much to look at, and far from posh, but this was where the little boy could slip into the darkness and look as if he'd been born there.

Despite being far too young for almost every enterprise on this block, Gavroche's step wasn't hurried, per say, despite the bitter cold and frightening faces. As usual, he was dressed in his blue hoodie, despite the colour having faded from constant use and abuse. His jeans were barely anything more than tatters, the denim barely covering his thighs before descending into shreds, and his sneakers had long since fallen apart. The sole was beginning to come apart from the shoe, and his big left toe frequently made an unwelcome appearance. To complete the portrait, the boy wore a scowl of a man three times his age, thoroughly distressed to have to be experiencing this kind of cold again. Spring had come slowly this year, that much was obvious.

His black beret was stuffed into the pocket that lay on his stomach, followed by his fingers that were hopelessly entwined within the material in a desperate search of some warmth. Slick, greasy blond hair hindered his view as the boy searched left and right, looking for any suitable nook or tolerable cranny to stuff himself into for his night's rest. Not an hour earlier, the urchin had returned to his warehouse - also known as his bedroom - only to find a group of squatters (much like himself) had moved in for what he hoped was the night. However, they were passing around some plastic bag of white powder, a mystery substance that Gavroche knew only one thing about.

He needed to stay away from it. It did weird things to the brain, making creatures leap from shadows that didn't exist, dull the senses and weaken inhibition, all dangerous things for someone who relied on instinct and his senses to stay alive from day to day. And once someone had had a taste of it, they seemed unable to survive without it, desperate for another experience, despite how repulsive it seemed to the child. Why would anyone want to leave themselves vulnerable to the world around them, and depend on powder for life or death?

Nevertheless, that didn't help Gavroche in his current case. Constantly hungry, he'd devoured what remained of that morning's loot (eggs and bacon that had taken an unexpected tumble, but cleaned up nicely) after the cruel discovery of his new roommates, but still felt that too familiar cavernous aching in his midsection that had become a constant factor in whatever he did, contributing to the youth's already diminutive stature by requiring Gavroche to arch his back to relieve some of the pain.

Finally, his exposed feet brought him to the crosswalk, exposing his thin body to the full blast of the unrelenting wind. Letting out a displeased hiss, Gavroche's bones shook in his skin, sending ice-cold blades to cut through his clothes even where his skin was covered. Gritting his teeth to keep from chattering, the youth turned tail and hurried back to the street he'd just left before fully realizing where his body was taking him, stamping his feet to keep them from falling asleep. Looking up once the sense had been knocked back into them, Gavroche's hazel orbs lighted on an alleyway that led to his right, empty save for a dumpster against a chain link fence.

What meant nothing to the middle and high classes meant everything to Gavroche, and the urchin took full advantage of the shelter from the wind by scuttling against the dumpster, with his back to the putrid smell. Fingers fashioned from bone alone reluctantly left the small warmth of his pocket to wrap the hem of his sweatshirt around skinnier legs, Gavroche's toes pushing on the bottom of the shirt to keep his body covered. Pulling his arms inside his meager coat to wrap around his body, the boy let out a sigh, watching the wisps of his breath spiral up to the pollution that was the night sky as he prayed for sleep to come quickly.</sup>

[thenerdherd]

Cherry must have taken a wrong turn, this wasn’t home at all. It didn’t look like home, it didn’t-Cherry wrinkled her nose slightly at the smell of the area she was in. It reaked of cigarettes and other things the young woman couldn’t place. The area made her feel scared and her hand clasped and unclasped, searching for Ponyboy’s hand. It took several minutes for her to realize that the other boy wasn’t there and her heartbeat grew faster, oh God, she was lost and alone. It wasn’t safe to be in a part of town you didn’t know when you were a Soc or a girl, Cherry, unfortunately, was both.

The wind whipped around her, making her cling to her jacket to keep her body warm. It caressed her cheeks and tangled through her red hair. ”Hey there, geogrous! Why don’t you come on over here?!” she heard someone call out as she passed by a bar. Cherry kept her head down and continued to walk, afraid of what would happen if she even made eye contact. ”Come on, baby! Get over here and show us what a real woman looks like.” Anger pulsed through her and she whipped her head around to glare at the drunken men, whom had taken up the opportunity to start wolf-whistling at her. ”Get lost!” she hissed before walking away from the men in a fast pace.

It seemed whenever Cherry wanted to run into Ponyboy she didn’t, just to feel the warmth of him walking beside her, his hand in hers, his lips on hers. It made her feel safe. But right now Cherry just felt alone and vulnerable, like if she made a wrong move she would end up murdered…or worse. Was this how Greasers felt? Suddenly, she felt guilty about the pleasures she was given. At times, the redhead would take them for granted, now she felt the true reality of the difference between classes.

Her eyes searched around the streets as she walked, her anxiety getting worse and worse. God, please let me run into Pony. Let him show me the way out of here. she thought silently, pulling the coat tighter around her. It was beginning to get dark and that worried Cherry even more, if she couldn’t find her way home before it was dark…she didn’t know what she would do. The only sounds she heard were hoots from random drunken men on the streets, the clicking of her shoes on the sidewalk, the sound of her breathing or the scream of the wind. None of which made her feel the tiniest bit at home.

The teenager passed by a dumpster and something caught her eye. Willing herself to back up, she realized it was someone who had caught her eye. It was a small boy, and Cherry’s heart instantly broke. Turning around she walked beside the dumpster, ignoring the horrible smell emitting from it. ”Sweetheart?” she said quietly kneeling in front of the child, ”Are you lost, honey?”

[gavroche]

<sup>Just as sleep was beginning to caress the child's eyelids, vision falling and fading into dreams, a sharp, tapping noise echoed and abounded within Gavroche's eardrums, causing his eyes to snap open with only a second to mourn for how close he'd gotten to rest. Accompanying it was vulgar shouts from mongrels he'd met only minutes earlier - their voices were still scratched into his mind like nails on a chalkboard. Adrenaline coursed through his numbing body, causing his branch-like arms to shoot out and press shivering fingers onto an even colder street. Taking a moment to flinch at the ice that reverberated up his spine, Gavroche's optics scanned the street in front of him, not seeing anything resembling a threat before him. Turning his stiffening neck, he checked his exposed side for person or vermin (although who could tell the difference at this hour?) before letting his body relax once more, arms retreating into the warmth for a few moments before the source of the noise was revealed to the skittish child.

And it was instantly clear that she had gotten lost. Staring down at him from what seemed like miles above the small boy was a variety of human far from Gavroche's own kind. Her clothes were neat and tidy, exuding an aura of polish and poise, compared to the urchin's rugged rags that barely covered his lower-than-low class roots. And her clothes didn't have a single hole in them! That fact alone caused a small ball of envy to settle in the boy's chest, to think of how warm the girl would be without gaping holes in her clothes. He'd only seen people who'd dressed like this from afar, or so it seemed. If he ran into someone of this status on the busy streets of New York, they'd barely spare the time to look down at what was carrying the rancid scent, let along spare a penny or two. However, there was no one else in the alleyway for this woman to be speaking to, and so Gavroche only blinked up at her for a few stagnant seconds.

She carried herself with a grace that was completely unlike the one developed to navigate the busy streets that the argot called home, but one could see where the two overlapped at times, despite the different dances. Her scent was marvelous, and spoke of subtle comforts that Gavroche could only guess at, such as the effects of even the lowest-quality shampoo. But what impressed the boy most of all was the colour of the hair that lay on the head that approached him now. He'd never seen it on a natural redhead before; only on the heads that revealed hideous roots, usually on patrons who frequented the businesses down the road.

Eventually, after about half a minute, it sunk into Gavroche's somewhat thick skull that he'd been asked a question. Letting out a soft snort, accompanied by a mischievous smile, the boy stretched out his legs, crossing them beneath them to give the appearance of a strung-out pretzel before replying. "Non, I'm not lost." Gavroche replied, leaning back against the dumpster. "But you don't look like ya come here often. Are you lost?" His tone carried a bit of an edge to it at first, carrying a natural guard that all street children ported, but then softened into a more mischievous sound.

Perhaps another adult would've found the boy's response cheeky. But in truth, it was a compliment to his companion that she wasn't wearing the signs of these streets - the grime and guck somehow seemed impossible to place on Cherry's image. Tilting his head with a puzzled expression hanging from his skin, Gavroche's brows furrowed deep into his eyes as he gave the question though. " 'Lthough I s'ppose y'are right in some sense - I don't usually come here either."</sup>

[thenerdherd]

Cherry looked to be taken aback for a few seconds, if he wasn't lost what was such a tiny child doing by hisself in a horrid place like this? "You're not lost?" she asked, surprise evident in her tone. The young girl examined the dirty and grimy floor before deciding to sit on it, her weight was beginning to be a pain when kneeling. She laughed, though it could scarcely be heard in the roar of the wind. "You're right, I don't come here at all. I dont live around here, people like me...well bad things happen if we're here. she grimaced slightly, "But yes," she admitted with another laugh, smiling gently at the boy. "I'm lost, I'm trying to find my way home." 

Another gust of wind chilled Cherry to the bone and she looked over the little boy. He was rather skinny and his clothes were in no condition to be in this weather, they were tattered and looked as if they hadn't been washed for months. Instantly, a motherly feeling took over the young woman and she shrugged off her coat, only a thin layer of cotton keeping her from the cold bite of the wind now. Carefully, she wrapped the jacket around the boy and buttoned it up, smiling as she did this. "Warmer?" she asked as she looped the last button into it's hole, "Just tell me when you get too hot and I'll hold it for you until you want to wear it again. But I doubt you'll get too hot in this weather."

Cherry looked around the streets, searching for a mother or father who was looking for their child. "Do you know where your family is?" she asked him, "Since you said you don't come here often, you came with them didn't you?"

Although her words asked a question her mind seemed to be screaming Sherri Valance! Look at the poor boy! Does he seem like he came to this awful place on vacation?. "It doesn't seem right for a little boy like you to be on the streets like this, alone." she told him, "With men like that." Cherry gestured with her head in the direction of the bar which held the men that had treated her with such disrespect. 

The fear the redhead had felt was now replaced with a motherly feeling. She felt the need to get the boy somewhere warm...and get him some food too. Her heart melted at the sight before her and she wondered how many people had seen thus boy before and just passed by him.

Cherry had been absolutely right that one day at the movies. Things defiantly were rough all over.

[gavroche]

<sup>Shaking his head, Gavroche let his response carry with weight of gesture rather than words that were all too eager to be swallowed up by the wind. The gesture caused a lock of barely blond hair to tumble into his gaze, which he blinked at in temporary annoyance. Once again exposing fingers to the harsh weather beyond his sweatshirt, the boy wiped the hair away, returning his gaze to Cherry as her surprise settled between them. The child had never given his predicament much thought, only to clarify that he was ecstatic to be free of his family, but he did know that most of the kids in his school (when he did attend, which was a rare occasion) had homes and parents to return to at the end of the day. Shrugging with the one shoulder that wasn't against the wall, the boy gave every indication that this was normal, nothing to express such shock at.

Then the topic changed, whipping with the wind back to the lady's presence in such a place. Seeing Cherry here was as strange to Gavroche as seeing his parents rich and kind, tossing money to all of the poor. And that was a sight so improbable that the youth knew he'd see a talking purple dog before that happened. Despite the jarring effect the lady's presence had, Gavroche focused on the words he heard, letting their meaning sink in. Frowning, the urchin folded his arms against his narrow chest, the concepts of why people would harm other people solely on appearance far beyond his youth. A twist in his chest brought the boy back to memories less favorable - mainly the stark memory of his own beating when he imposed on another street gang's territory. Even simply visiting the rank smells and searing blows in his mind brought pain to his body; sharp, echoing blows that had long since faded to bruises and then to nothing, leaving no scars. "It's easier when ya're fast - no one can catch ya then." He stated, already the thought settling in to roost that this lady probably didn't have the speed to get away from attacks such as those.

"Ya know, I can get you home - no one knows these streets better than I do!" The boy bragged, pride and delight sparkling in his hazel gaze. Where his mind was unable to hold simple arithmetic or rules of grammar inside, navigating the streets came effortlessly to him, and every major street (and most of the minor) held a picture that he could conjure up, as well as which streets led to what dumpsters and reliable shelters. His chest had puffed up as he told Cherry of his prowess, a cocky, endearing smile playing on his emaciated features.

The dagger blades of wind sliced the pair sitting by the dumpster, seeking the pink, raw skin of noses and fingers before they could beat a hasty retreat into warmer places. Shivering visibly as the breeze rocketed down his spine, Gavroche's intelligent eyes hid for a moment, his entire body condensing as he waited for the wind to die down. It sought out his neck as well, causing all of the dormant hairs to spring to life, frozen nerves barely forming a shield for the sack of bones that the youth appeared to be.

But what happened next was enough to cause the boy to completely forget about his cold state, despite it being a long-standing enemy which he'd waged war against for many years now. At first, his gaze watched her unbuttoning her coat, causing his thoughts to rail against the action, wondering if the cold could affect a person's sensibilities, but his instincts kicked in ever so briefly as the woman moved towards him. The only memories Gavroche had of intentional contact were blows or kicks, particularly from his mother, and so this spurred his muscles to jerk away a few inches, until his mind realized what Cherry's goal was. Body tense with surprise that melted into anticipation, Gavroche could not help himself as soon as the last button was done - he buried his chin in the material that covered his neck up to his nose, hunching back into his lap while wearing a smile that stretched to both walls of the alley.

The warmth spread over him in a way that the child had nearly forgotten with the long winter that had raged through New York. He felt invincible in the coat, as if the wind had no power over him, unable to penetrate the guard he wore. Feeling was beginning to return to a partially numbed body, and a tingling sensation spread into his hands and even his toes as the warmth spread. Grinning, his fingers rubbed against each other in an effort to dissipate the sleep that had spread into them, and his expression seemed to light up the entire alley. "I en't been this warm since the summer..." he murmured to himself, shrinking himself even further to allow the coat to cover most of his body. "Thanks a ton, lady!"

His jovial mood evaporated quickly, however, as his parents were mentioned. Stretching his neck back out into the cold, Gavroche's tongue stuck out in displeasure, a scowl quickly replacing the smile he'd worn seconds earlier. "Iunno where they are - I think 'Ponine's here sommere, but I haven't seen my parents since we lived under the bridge." If there was anything worse than the cold, that would be wet combined with the cold - and that was ever present when someone lived under a bridge. Not to mention the noises of the world crossing above you, a concrete metaphor for an unbreakable glass ceiling of captivity. No, it was there that Gavroche had last seen his family, alright, but also the last place where he'd ever want to return to. "I en't seen my parents in... per'aps four winters? Maybe..." Trailing off for the moment, the boy extended his right hand, tiny stubs of fingers poking up slowly and deliberately from under the heavy sleeve as he mouthed numbers slowly, as if this was some herculean effort. One....... Two......... Three....... Four........ um...... five! "five winters, sounds more like 't."

Still consumed in his bliss for having something that was warm and free of holes, Gavroche's eyes were screwed shut in joy, a faint smile painted upon his skin. "'Tis better than home, that's fer sure. The men aren't always that bad, you just need to trip 'em and then get out of there fast." Now the boy was in his element, speaking of how he'd survived on the streets he frequented every hour of every day. He could easily go on for hours about the tricks he'd picked up in the five years since he'd left his family's awful lifestyle behind, but for now the coat - something so simple, and yet infinitely precious - had consumed his entire focus. The material that coated him now was so soft and smooth, the boy couldn't resist rubbing a part of the sleeve against his jawline, peering back at the patron who'd lent him her coat. "Yer coat's really really nice, d'm'selle.* He said, unable to think of any other adjectives to do the warmth justice.</sup>

* D'm'selle = Mademoiselle, a french term for an unmarried young woman.

[thenerdherd]

{Ooc: Opps, messed up link! This is her outfit! =) }

Cherry laughed lightly and ran her fingers through the soft red waves that made up her hair, it was tangled from the wind blowing. Her fingers caught in the knots and she tugged down on them lightly, allowing her fingers to finish running through the strands. ”Anyone could catch me, I’m not a very fast runner, you see.” Cherry wondered, would a boy as young as he understand the opposite sides they were on? That she was one who the lower class envied and hated? The poor cherub, she hoped he wasn’t exposed to the rivalries that went on in this damned town. Sometimes she even wished that she had never been exposed to it, the truth hurt more than the lies.

The younger girl wondered what life would be like, in place of the boy in front of her. There was a place in her heart that longed to switch places with the little boy, just so he could have warmth, so he could be well fed, so he could have a place to call home or a bed to sleep on. If Cherry had a choice she would gladly switch with anyone who lived in conditions such as the ones she was staring at. Are you fast?” she asked, ”My friend, he’s in track. Between you and me, I bet you could beat him in a race.” she smiled at him in a playful way

When he spoke again Cherry’s eyes widened in surprise once again and hope. He could get her home. Oh Cherry wanted more than anything to be home, it wasn’t like the Wizard of Oz where she clicked her heels three times and she was home. Oh, how much easier things would be if that were the case. ”You can?” she asked, she couldn’t help but smile warmly at the boy when she saw the pride in his face. He seemed so proud to know his way around the streets, as if it were some sort of trophy he could hold. Something he had won. ”I bet you do!” she laughed, the wind howled and she shrank into her jacket. God, it was freezing outside.

Cherry hated to see the poor thing shiver in the cold, it broke her heart-no-it shattered her heart and she wanted nothing more than to warm him. This was why she had given up her jacket to him, again, her heart broke when he jerked away. What had happed to this poor innocent child? She wanted to know why he was alone, why he was on the streets, why he jerked away. The young woman wanted to know his story, she wanted to care for him. It was a feeling so strong that she knew if she were old enough and knew the child well enough she would probably want to adopt him on the spot. Even now, barely meeting the child she wanted to adopt him. Sadly, she was sixteen and there was no way that that wish could happen until she was eighteen and of age to make such decisions.

Then, Cherry wanted to cry. She wanted to sob, the redhead could even feel the tears start up in her eyes. If asked she could blame it on the cold although that wasn’t it. It was that look on his face, the smile that spread across his delicate face. The smile of warmth, of happiness. She returned the smile before pressing her lips together to keep herself from crying.

”I en’t been this warm since the summer…” she heard him say. At those words a tear leaked from her eye and ran down her cheek. It was colder than ice as it dripped down her skin. Socs were supposed to be heartless, they were supposed to hate anything lower than them. Cherry was different, she had never liked the rules they had. She ran her own way and that was why things didn’t work out sometimes. She thought Greasers were people, she didn’t see what was so bad about East Windrixville other than the…dirty aspect of it. For Heaven’s sake! She was even falling for a Greaser. Cherry was everything that the Socs were against. Quickly, Cherry wiped away the tear from her cheek with the back of her hand carefully moved closer to him before wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on top on his head. ”You’re welcome.” she responded

Again, Cherry Valance was in shock. He didn’t know where his parents were? That was unbelievable. What sort of parent could leave a child out in the cold by themselves?! It wasn’t right, it was inhumane! Who was Epoine? Perhaps a sibling of sort? Wait, did he just say he lived under the bridge before. Immdiaetly, she was filled with disgust and pity. Not disgust for the little child but for the parents, she didn’t know the entire story but she just didn’t think leaving a child, who couldn’t be more than eight or nine, alone with his sibling. Four winters…that was…five winters…oh God. ”F-Five?” she stuttered

Cherry shook her head in amusment, ”Trip them and get out of there fast? You’re a very smart boy, you know that?” she asked. “By the way, I’m Cherry Valance. What’s your name?“ The young girl ran her fingers through his hair as she held him, not even bothering to ask if her even touching him was bothering him. Her instincts told her to love the little boy and that’s what she was doing, it felt right. ”You like it?” she asked, ”You can keep it. It may be classified as a ‘Girls Jacket’ but if you enjoy it, you can have it. I have no need for it.” she told him

The teenager sat there holding him for a bit, the only sounds were their breathing and the howling wind, when an idea hit her, if Cherry left to go home she wouldn’t be able to stand leaving him to be by himself. Her parents, they were gone for a month on business. She had the house to herself and they had a few guest rooms…”What would you think about coming home with me for awhile?” she asked, ”And if we see Epoine, they could come with us. You both could stay with me for a bit. If you don’t want to, I completely understand, stranger danger and all that. But I absolutely couldn’t live with myself if you stayed out here in the cold.”

[gavroche]

<sup>Grinning at his new friend, Gavroche brought his knees closer to his chest, letting the warmth from the borrowed coat seep through his chilled bones. "All it takes s' practice. I'm sure if ya needed to you could sure book it!" From his time on the street, Gavroche knew that despite anyone's build or fitness, if the circumstances were dire enough, anyone could be fast enough to escape danger. However, Gavroche's view of the world was tilted, as was Cherry's - just in another direction. The boy knew only people on the street who were primed for their needed escapes, and barely knew of higher class people who might be hindered - his only experience was running away from those kinds of people.

Waggling his eyebrows at Cherry, Gavroche nodded, pride warming his chest further. "Sure am! Ya gotta be fast if ya hang around the streets at night, anyways. Not like you see the nicest people 'round here a lot - not like you." While speaking, he pulled the edges of her coat around his skinny frame, shaking a little less as the coat lingered each minute. Showing his benefactor a toothy grin, the boy's head bobbed enthusiastically. "Oh yeah. There ain't many people can outrun Gavroche!"

While the words fell from his mouth, the young child became aware of another growing problem that was developing - one that hadn't come into play back when Gavroche was without a coat. Where his nose has been frozen down to the tip previously, it was now beginning to warm once more, and that had caused his nose to run. A slight panicked feeling clawed at his chest, dragging out memories the boy would much rather forget.

It would have been back in France - probably Paris, but the boy never knew his geography well beyond knowing the streets - where he'd been with his family, but far from happy. His parents had owned an inn there, where Gavroche's earliest memories certainly spawned with raucous cries and the heavy scent of beer against the walls. He'd been the errand runner for most of his life - taking out the trash, buying whatever leftover meat he couldn't steal to supply his mother's 'Soupe de mystère' (Mystery Soup), and occasionally picking the pockets of the most drunken of their tenants. But this particular memory came from a night just before they left for America, where the boy had returned from retrieving a large, beautiful sausage with his sister. She'd run in to distract the man, begging for his help to save an injured kitten, while the younger urchin had slunk in, stealing the sausage and whisking himself out the back door faster than it took the butcher to realize that there was no cat to speak of. He'd been wearing one of his mother's finer sweaters for warmth, for la niege was just as cold here as in Paris, when the pair of robbers returned, holding their triumphant prize. It would've been a decent night, with only some ear-boxing to speak of, if Gavroche's nose hadn't begun to run. Naturally, the boy wiped it with his sleeve, having been taught no manners relating to this previously. When his mother's eye, sharp as an eagle and cold as a vulture snapped upon him, it was a beating to remember as any had been before, despite the urchin doing little wrong.

So it was now, in New York City, trapped in a similar scenario that Gavroche quivered, unsure of what to do. Even the sheer memory of the beating had caused part of his head to throb, a patch just above his right eyebrow singing in perceived pain. Preoccupied by his dilemma, the boy didn't fully hear Cherry's question or praise until he slipped an arm out of his coat, wincing as the cold sliced through the thin material. Dabbing at his nostrils with the sleeve, Gavroche quickly sniffed, trying to staunch the problem before Cherry would lash out at him as his mother had, angry that he had ruined yet another precious item of clothing.

Clueing in to the conversation once more, the boy nodded, sniffing as he went. "Yeah - sure can. Where d'ya need ta go?" Now, Gavroche was no skilled people person, but he could tell that something was happening with his new friend. Giving her a quizzical glance with his intelligent optics, his head tilted before deciding against voicing a question as a tear slid down her porcelain cheek. Dismay filled his chest as he saw her cry, eyes wide with wonder at what he did wrong. Biting his lip in fear and regret, the boy extended a filthy hand to pat Cherry's awkwardly, searching her gaze for something to clue him in. Aw, lady... don't cry! D'ya want your coat back?" Desperate to make it better, Gavroche began pulling the too-long coat off of his back before the woman moved unexpectedly, and the boy froze as terror began to ooze through his veins.

In all of his life, Gavroche couldn't remember much of this kind of contact, except maybe once or twice it'd happened with Azelma and Éponine. His life on the street hadn't offered such luxuries, and so when Cherry wrapped him with her arms the boy was unsure of what to do; At first, he'd given an involuntary flinch before he froze, arms pinned beneath the embrace. There was something special to this touch, Gavroche thought, so when her head rested on his the child relaxed, giving in to the feelings he'd missed from his youth, and extended his own skinny arms to her, all the while hoping he wouldn't mind the grease that was on his hair without a doubt.

"Well..." The boy began, eyes turning to where he knew Cherry's eyes should be, but he couldn't see from his position. "P'raps four. There was the winter I hung 'round the bridge - but not the one 'Ponine and 'Zelma were under. I think that was the first... and then I think I found the warehouse that next year. That's when I found the deli, ya see. Then there was the winter I tried stepping onto the cold slippery stuff and ripped my pants... and then there's this one, so yeah, p'robably four." The naive boy had taken Cherry's incredulity for doubting his numbers, which in the end had been correct. "I en't never been good with numbers." He murmured, a little pout pushing his lips out and causing his eyebrows to darken.

"Ya think so?" Gavroche voiced, his voice slightly muffled against Cherry's embrace. When he'd gone to school on the days where the streets were too cold to stay out, his teachers were always scowling at him, even when he tried to pay attention. "I'm Gavroche. Ya know, Cherry's a pretty name." The fingers that ran through his hair were oddly comforting, and his hazel eyes disappeared under closed lids as the contact lingered.

Nodding, Gavroche pulled away slightly to look up in to Cherry's eyes, his face wearing the wrinkles of a boy with ten years' additional strife. "Yeah, the coat's super warm and soft, too." He said, before his eyes flew wide, the whites of his eyes a sharp contrast to the grimy grey and darker stains on his skin. "Huh? You mean.... I can keep it?" Towards the end of his sentence, the tone leapt in energy and excitement, the largest smile she'd seen yet breaking the bonds of city strife. "Gee, thanks Cherry!" He exclaimed, a warm ball of jubilation lending energy to his frame and compelled his arms to pull his friend into another one of these 'hug' things, squeezing perhaps a tad too hard.

But it seemed as if the day's surprises weren't over yet. From where Gavroche hugged Cherry beneath her head, his face grew into a puzzled expression, his head once again lifting to examine her meaning. "What, you mean actually going with ya?" Confusion had warped his face into a collection of wrinkles and darkened his face. An offer of such generosity couldn't possibly compute in his mind, and it took him more than a few moments to process this. Beginning with the easy questions, Gavroche bit his lower lip in contemplation. "Nah, I haven't seen Éponine in a very long time. Dunno if she's even here no more." He began, before the next remark settled in. "Huh? What's stranger danger?"

Scratching his head, Gavroche's mind was still turning over the idea Cherry posed, unsure of how to respond. "Uh... I dunno, you've been real nice to me already, and I don't want to leave my warehouse along for too long. Some people moved into it and I don't want them to stay... but we need ta get ya home anyways, right?"</sup>

(Sorry it's not great... ><)