Chapter Text
Back in 1924, little Annie had always wished for a family when at Miss. Asthma’s Home For Orphans. She never dreamt of being adopted by the immensely wealthy Oliver Warbucks! It took a long while and many adventures but Oliver and Annie proved to be a happy father-daughter pair. Caring immensely for his new child, Oliver provided her with incredible toys, the loveliest dresses, and the best education-both from schools and from Warbucks, himself. Why, it was he who taught Annie his old boxing moves. Yet, that was no trouble as little Annie was a natural pro! When one lived their lives in an orphanage with older kids picking on their younger peers, fighting was bound to happen…no matter how Miss. Asthma reprimanded you…
For her part, Annie always tried her best to be a good-but tough-kid. She’d give her own coat to another child in need, helped out maids and butlers at the Warbucks’ home, and even asked Oliver to open a Fourth Of July fair for kids with free admission. Those were only a few instances of her character. Needless to say, Oliver could never ask for a better daughter.
As years rolled by, Annie grew to be quite the young lady. She was rather short-only 5’3’’. Her strawyberry-blonde curls were donned in a thick bob that shaped her round face with radiant blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Favoring casual fashion, she sported a white-and-red shirt with white pants that bore two red buttons. In spite of that, Annie still kept her love of dresses. Inspired by her older friend, Miss. Jane Fair, the humbled Annie became more gentle and patient. Yet, that didn’t stop her spunky, street-wise attitude. At home, Oliver and his trusted assistants-Punjab and Asp-smiled with paternal warmth when seeing Annie play fetch with her old dog, Sandy, out in the gardens. And, at Purdue University, Annie had made her second year busy with tennis and boxing. All as she studied in Home Economics, Child Psychology, Finance (Personal and Corporate), and Law.
Now with the semester making way for summer break, Annie thought to relax at home and continue her part-time job at the soda shop. True, there was Tuxedo Park’s upcoming debutante ball. Once turning 19, Annie was fit to be a “deb”, herself. But, after months of etiquette training, Mrs. Primprop found Annie to be “hopeless”.
“That child giggles at anything!”, scoffed Mrs. Primpop, “It could take 10 years and she’d still be a hick!”
Annie’s classmates were barely any help, either.
“It's known she’s an orphan.”, said a girl, “Who’d let her into their blood-line?”
“Surely not the Rockefellers!”, chuckled another girl, “The Fords wouldn’t be caught dead with her around!”
Annie’s fists would itch so much when hearing that kind of talk! But, all she could do with walk off to the restroom to calm down.
“I oughta deck ‘em…”, she thought, “But I can’t. What trouble that would cause Daddy…I can’t let him down.”
Still, Annie had half a mind to skip the ball altogether.
“I’ll just ruin the whole thing.”, she said to Sandy and gave a soft smile, “Besides, it’d be lots more fun with Tony, Bertha, and the rest of the gang, anyway. You too, Sandy, old boy.”
Had she’d skip the affair, Oliver wouldn’t have minded; the elitist high-and-mighty worked his nerves too. Not to mention, with the ball coming in a matter of weeks, there was still yet to be a proper escort for Annie. Then a popular opera singer came into the picture…
Ah! The magnificent Bianca Castafiore had arrived in New York City! Specifically, to the grand home of Oliver Warbucks. Upon Castafiore’s arrival, a weary Annie had made her escape by taking Sandy out for a walk. Punjab and Asp did the same by claiming that Annie would need bodyguards. “You never know who’s watching…”, claimed Punjab. Oliver knew what those three really meant and couldn’t blame them a bit.
After excusing the trio, Bianca Castafiore entered Oliver’s office with her entourage. With her bombastic introduction and Oliver’s sarcasm, Bianca had eventually cut to the chase.
“Well, Mr. Wartrucks”, she started, “there’s a very good reason why I’m here. My darling friends-Mary Pikefort, Angelina Sordi as well as myself are to be among the chaperones for Tuxedo Park’s Debutante Ball.”
“Great!”, Oliver feigned a smile with the proceeding thought, “Three more reasons NOT to come…”
Not being able to read minds, Castafiore continued.
“And according to Mrs. Primprop, your daughter-a gorgeous little thing-is yet to have a proper escort for the night, yes? Well, lucky for her I’ve got the boy for her! Quite the little gentleman, he is! We can arrange it as a little blind date!”
Warbucks had to shut it down.
“Look here,”, he started, “with all due respect, I don’t think my Annie’s gonna stand being with some old geezer or an arrogant dandy. And she won’t be if I got anything to say-”
“Now, Mr. Warwick,”, Castafiore retorted, “Mr. Tintin is no ‘geezer’ or ‘dandy’ and I shall not have him dismissed this way!”
Warbucks’ eyes lit up.
“‘Tintin’?”, he raised a brow, “Ain’t he that French reporter who took down Al Capone a few years back?”
“Belgian, dear.”, corrected Castafiore, “But that’s him! The one and only Tintin!”
Oliver hated to admit it, but old Castafiore was onto something. For a long while he had heard of Tintin’s heroism even before the boy reporter went to the moon. When word got around about Tintin’s take down of Al Capone and Bobby Smiles, Oliver wanted to invite him to a gathering he and Annie were attending. But, before the invite could’ve been sent, Tintin was already out of Chicago for another story. Maybe now the fates would be kinder. However, Oliver had to be sure if this French-or Belgian-or whatever he is can be trusted. Especially with his “little girl”.
“It’s a ‘blind date’ between him and her.”, Oliver would later inform Punjab and Asp, “Not for us.”