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Summary
Ed reminds Oswald vaguely of Mooney’s younger hires. Maybe it’s his slender build, his veined forearms, his naivety; either way, he can’t help but think of them, catching their gaze as Fish snapped her fingers at him, demanding he divert his attention back to her. There was an unspoken want between them, the umbrellaboy and the escorts, heavy in the air and clear as day. Os never looked at the girls that way, nor did he consider them at all– he didn’t like their outfits, their attitudes, the way they strutted with arrogance. The men carried a sort of elegance that Oswald envied.