Chapter Text
MINNIE
They meet when Minnie is sprinting from the poor sap who made the mistake of keeping his wallet in his back pocket.
Minnie’s head keeps snapping to look behind as her little legs carry her faster and faster as she weaves through the crowded sidewalks of Crime Alley. With her eyes more focused on looking out for the guy that he just pickpocketed and not in front of her, she doesn’t see the tiny figure that is crouching in the middle of the sidewalk.
Minnie trips over her, and they both crash to the ground with an ‘oof!’
The tiny figure underneath Minnie clutches something between their bodies protectively, not caring at all about how she collides with the sidewalk, protecting whatever it is hugged carefully to her chest.
“Are you okay?” the girl asks.
“I think that’s my line,” Minnie says. She holds back a groan as she pulls herself off of the girl. She checks behind her again, still on edge and not feeling nearly far enough from that man.
“I should’ve watched where I was going,” the girl says.
“No, this is all on me,” Minnie says. “Don’t go beatin’ yourself up.” Minnie doesn’t think she could pin the blame on this girl even if she wanted to. Or, maybe she could. “What were you doing in the middle of the sidewalk?”
“There was a frog,” she says.
“A frog?” Minnie repeats.
“It was a Lithobates clamitans. They’re common in New Jersey, but I don’t often see them in the city.”
“Huh,” Minnie says. “I didn’t know that.”
“They’re also known as green frogs,” she says.
“Because they’re green?” Minnie asks.
“Well, yes. But many frogs are green. But these ones are specifically called green frogs.”
“Aren’t those those from the rainforest? What are they doing in New Jersey?”
“I think you may be thinking of red-eyed tree frogs. Those are green with orange feet. Or perhaps a green and black poison dart frog.”
“I’m thinking of the green one.”
“Well, like I said, there are many green frogs.”
“Huh.” Minnie pauses. “Yeah, sure.”
The girl’s hands protectively caress something behind her mittens and Minnie does a double take when she realizes what it is.
It’s a camera. And a nice one, at that. Not one of those cheap plastic ones that you buy from Walmart. No, the real deal that the fancy photographers have. So, why does this little girl who can’t be older than seven have one?
God, if Minnie took that, she would be eating good for weeks. Maybe even months, if she stretched it out and budgeted well.
Minnie shakes the thought immediately out of her head. She can’t steal from a kid! She may be desperate but she’s not that desperate.
And if this kid can afford a camera like that, she probably has money. Like money money. And Minnie isn’t a gold digger or anything, but it couldn’t hurt to make friends like that.
And, as much as she hates it and knows that she shouldn’t get attached, she’s already starting to warm up to her.
“What’s your name?” Minnie asks.
“T—” she stops. She raises her chin, puffing out her chest slightly. “Moss.”
“You sure about that?” Minnie asks with an amused grin.
“Very sure,” Moss says very unsurely.
“Alright then,” Minnie says. “Moss it is. I’m Minnie.”
“Like the mouse,” Moss says.
Minnie snorts. “Yeah, like the mouse. It’s short for Minestrone.”
“That’s a soup, not a name,” Moss says.
“Uh huh it is! It’s my name so it’s a name.”
Moss’s cheeks puff out, brows scrunching together deep in thought. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” Minnie says. “When you get as old as me, you’ll be right about stuff too.”
“I’m right about some stuff!” Moss says. “Like frog stuff. I bet I’m righter about frogs than you are!”
Minnie huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I bet you are righter about that. I don’t know much about frogs.”
Moss perks up. “Do you want to know more about frogs?”
And honestly? Minnie doesn’t. But she can tell that Moss wants to tell her about frogs, and she wants to see Moss light up like that again.
Because, if Minnie is being honest, she doesn’t see many smiles these days. Especially not from herself. But now her cheeks are aching from how hard she’s been smiling.
She’s forgotten what it’s like to be happy like this. That she could be happy like this.
She thought it wouldn’t be possible to feel happy again after her dad died. Her dad, even in his last days, weeks, months when he was too sick and too doped up to think straight, always found a way to make her smile whether it be brushing through her curls or rationing out a can of tinned fruit for dessert or, on his really lucid days, reading to her before bed. It almost made it easy, well not easy, but… livable. Enough to get through the day and hold onto the sliver of hope that he was deteriorating in front of her.
Minnie tries not to think about it too much.
“Have you ever been to the Mariposa Diner?” Moss asks.
Minnie’s seen it, but the prices are so ridiculous that she doesn’t know how they could possibly stay in business in a place like Crime Alley.
“Can’t say I have,” Minnie says.
“You should come with me!” Moss says.
“I don’t got anything to pay with,” Minnie says honestly.
“Oh, I can pay for you,” Moss says simply.
“Just like that? You don’t… want anything from me?” Minnie asks suspiciously.
“Well,” Moss looks down sheepishly, her feet clicking together. “I do want something from you.”
Minnie’s heart sinks. “Oh. What?”
“I want you to be my friend?” Moss looks up with big eyes.
Immediately, Minnie’s heart warms again. “Yeah. I’d like to be your friend.”
And with that begun the start of a new beginning.