Chapter Text
Aunty is sitting in a cafe, drinking her evening coffee, when she hears a scuffle in the closest alley. If she listens she can hear a young lady hiss frantically "Go, go now, go!"
A scrawny young man - almost a boy - hurries out. There's some more quiet words from the young lady - she thinks it's Amina - the lovely girl who runs the shop that is next to the alley. A metal door slams closed - and it sounds like the one that the shop uses to get to their bins, so it's likely that it was Amina.
Then there's a clatter, and the sound of someone throwing up, violently.
Well. She pauses for a moment. She'll need to check on Amina, make sure she's okay - and find out who that boy was. There's not many people she doesn't recognise nowadays.
But Amina had slammed that door quite hard. She'd likely not be up to talking quite yet. And whoever is in that alley sounds as if they're having a very bad time.
Now, she's not a fool, and this is Gotham, so she's not defenseless, no matter how it looks, or what others might think of her. And she'll keep her guard up until she knows who and what is going on in that alley.
She knows some of Dolly's family are up to some very foolish things nowadays, and need a good thump 'round the ears to knock some sense back into them. And they've been messing around in this area. Chances are, it's one of Dolly's grandsons, in which case, she is quite capable of delivering that thump on Dolly's behalf, since she can't anymore.
She meanders in - best not to stride quite yet, on the off chance it isn't one of Dolly's boys. And- black hair, not brown, and entirely too big and broad-shouldered. Not one of Dolly's then. But he might need a thump 'round the ears anyway.
But he's curled up against the wall, looking thoroughly miserable. And no-one looking like that is about to jump up and threaten her, not with their knees tucked under their chin and arms holding tight.
He looks up, sees her, and turns away, trying to blend into the wall.
That might have worked, if he were smaller and younger - though from the looks of him, not all that much younger. He's barely out of boyhood, if she's judging him right, but it looks like puberty hit him hard. He's still slightly too long-limbed, proportions all stretched out, not quite even. He'll grow into it, no doubt, but it hasn't happened just yet.
And the people that act the way he is right now, they're children - young boys. They tuck themselves against a wall, trying to go unnoticed - and then they can run. But he's shaking, too, barely noticeable tremors - if he tried to run, it'd likely be closer to a stagger.
She says "Hush, boy, I'm not here to hurt you."
He blinks up at her. Still quiet. Hmm. He doesn't believe her. She's not surprised.
She looks at him again. Yes, round the eyes. He's seen a lot of life, this one, despite his young age. And round here, that doesn't mean anything good.
And looming over him isn't helping either, so she kneels down - ha, all that praying five times a day is good for something in Gotham, even if it is just keeping limber.
She hums, then says "Now, why don't you tell me what's troubling you."
He shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together.
No, she didn't think that would work, but it gives her a place to start.
"Now, I just saw a young man run out of here, very quickly. And I heard Amina-" he glances up at her, then away again, and she explains "-the lovely girl who runs the shop. She didn't sound very happy, but then, nor did you."
She glances over the alleyway - and close by, there's a small puddle of bile.
Hmm. That size, and not eating enough, not if it's just liquid that he's throwing up.
Though judging from the colour of his face, it could be that he's ill, and can't stomach solids at the moment.
But if that's the case, he shouldn't be up and wandering around anyway.
He mumbles "I thought she was in trouble."
Well now. This is certainly going somewhere.
He looks back at her, nervously.
"She sounded worried. So I-. I thought-."
He trails off. He has a huskier voice than she might have expected, but then he has just thrown up. She waits, but it seems as though he'll need prompting.
"You thought?"
He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter.
But she. The guy, he was-. He was being pushy.
So I-. I stepped in."
He trails off again, then starts up again, "An' she stepped in between me an' him.
"I thought he was scaring her.
"But the one who scared her was me.
"An' I-.
"I don't know how else to help.
"But-."
And then he stops talking.
Well. It at least sounds like he's got his heart in the right place. Especially if his reaction to scaring someone he didn't want scared was to throw up and then curl against a wall, visibly upset.
But Amina had sounded very frightened, judging by the hasty slam of that door. And Amina is a steady girl. And it's Gotham. She doesn't jump at shadows.
So she says, firmly, "And what did you do to scare her, young man?"
He flinches, then mumbles "Pulled a gun."
Oh the foolish boy. Young people, they always think that the way to solve things is to shoot them.
She says tartly, "Not everyone needs shooting, young man."
He flinches again, and he's shrinking against the wall, as if he can feel her scorn. That's a very strong reaction, especially to someone he doesn't know from adam.
Then he raises his chin, and says "Some people do. Some people won't stop unless they're made to. And just because I use guns-. "
And that does not sound like he's arguing with her.
He cuts himself off, and starts flushing bright red.
At least he isn't that terrible shade of white anymore.
And then he's back to mumbling, "Some people do need shooting."
But her statement still stands - "Not everyone."
He rolls his eyes -such a young boy- and says "Then what do people need?"
Silly boy.
"Well, young women like Amina need healthcare, as does everyone else. Young men, like the one you ran out of this alley, like most people, likely need jobs, and homes, and food.
"Now, I didn't recognise him, but I'll track him down sooner or later. But he needs to become part of the community here, especially if he's trying to carry on with Amina. I'll find something for him to do at the centre, underfunded though it is.
"As you say, some people need shooting. But you'll find, young man, that a great many of the people here do not.
"The fools who join gangs, they think there's no other choice-"
The young man scoffs, says scornfully "This is Crime Alley."
She nods - he isn't entirely wrong. She wants to believe more than she actually does. This is Gotham, after all. And though she'll not commit violence herself, unless she has to, and she knows that according to her faith, she ought to turn away from it - if some of the worst gangs in the Alley, and in the Bowery, end up dying… Well, she'll pray for them, but that's all. She won't waste what little resources and time she has on them - they don't deserve more than that from her, because they don't want to change, they don't want help, they just want to hurt others.
But that's only the worst gangs: most of them are just full of foolish boys who grew up into foolish men. They joined because they had to, and because it's the only thing they know how to do - they don't deserve to be shot for it.
Because this boy isn't entirely right, either.
"And it is easier to join a gang. But they join because they need a job, and gangs are often the only ones hiring. And they need jobs because they need to pay for food, for their homes, for their families. And sometimes it's because they need something to do.
"And none of those things, silly boy, are fixed by shooting at them."
He looks away, tucking his head behind his knee.
He knows she's right. He just doesn't want to admit it, that much is clear.
Well, she'll get no further today.
She leans over, pats his knee, and tells him, "I'm near here most evenings, if you want to slow down enough to have a cup of tea with someone."
He peeks up at her. He says "Chai noomi basra? Ah, loomi tea, sorry."
Well! At least he isn't suggesting boiling water in a microwave, though she will have to get her hands on it especially - it's not a common tea.
She looks at him again.
To suggest chai noomi basra, though-. He's got a strong Gotham accent - from Crime Alley too, judging by some of his vowels. But requesting that particular tea, that sounds like he's traveled. And at such a young age! And to come back to Gotham.
He mumbles, "Was only in town to wrap up a few loose ends." but the glance up at her suggests that though that might have been true, he's going to hang around for long enough to find her again for that cup of tea.
Yes, this is certainly a young man that she wants to get to know. She thinks the conversation could end up very interesting, very interesting indeed.
She's looking forward to it.