Disclaimer: I believe that at this point we've established that I do not own Newsies.

A/N: So when you're inspired, you're inspired, right? Well, I was, so that's why you are getting the follow-up to Clockwork. It's not imperative that you read Clockwork before this piece, but it might be helpful. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave a review! :) CTB!

Clockwork II

The day began like any other. I was shaken awake at an ungodly hour by one of the girls that my parents employed to keep our home in order. In my typical response, I swatted at her and pulled the covers over my head until she left the room. After a few moments, I tossed the bedclothes off and sat up, squinting against the brightness pouring in through uncovered window. Slipping from my bed, I crossed to it and slid the pane up, letting in a gust of fresh morning air. It woke me up more effectively than the maid had.

My moment of euphoria and feeling at ease with the world was short lived as there came a knock at my door. It was not much of a guess as to who would enter; my life was kept to the same awful routine day in and day out.

"Come in!"

I turned from the window to see Kate, my own personal maid, slide gingerly into the room, bobbing her head as a respectful greeting. I secretly despised that little nod, which she gives each and every time she comes and goes from my sight; it's a crude symbol of the status that we each hold. Her purpose is to attend to my every whim.

"Good morning, miss," Kate said, greeting me with another little bob of her head. She immediately whisked over to the wardrobe to retrieve a selection of dresses that I would then choose from.

While she rummaged about my excessive possessions, I settled onto the cushioned stool in front of the vanity to wait. As usual, Kate pulled out some of the more lavish day dresses first. I declined each of them, not seeing a reason to dress elegantly when my only excitement would be attending lessons; there was no need to be fashionable for them. When I still hadn't chosen, it was obvious that Kate was growing impatient, but I knew she was holding out on what I really wanted. So I helped her along.

"Something simple today, please Kate?"

She sighed, knowing exactly which dress I was implying. A grin touched my lips when she pulled out my favorite dress. It was one of my older dresses--a lovely pale yellow, nothing too fancy--having the look of one that had been worn many times over, more so than might be appropriate, but I didn't care. It was what I wanted.

Kate helped me dress and then plaited my hair. Upon completion I surveyed myself in the mirror, satisfied with the image looking back at me. At my dismissal, Kate scurried from the room to begin her day of household chores. I followed soon after to join my parents for a bit of breakfast.

My father, regal and handsome, sat at the head of the long ornate table while my mother sat to his right. His eyes held the slight glazed over look of one who wanted to appear as if he were paying attention, but really was not. The reason behind his expression was my mother, who was talking animatedly, probably about the latest society gossip--something that never seemed to interest my father. She was so involved with whatever she was going on about that my entrance went unnoticed until I pulled out my chair.

"Good morning," my father said brightly, happily cutting off my mother in mid-sentence. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," I replied politely, returning his smile. We both hated the formality, but we endured it for my mother's sake. She was a rather finicky woman, who believed that children would only learn the proper behavior and etiquette that was expected of them through practice--even in the home. "Good morning, mother."

I never liked this ritual of having breakfast together; there was never anything to talk about unless the family had attended some gathering on the evening before. There had been nothing last night, so conversation was limited to whatever societal gossip my mother had unearthed; she had a terrible taste for anything that might smell like a scandal. I was like my father, uninterested in the doings of our peers. I simply wanted to move on to the more pleasant parts of my day.

My timing was usually quite good, but today it was impeccable; I only had to feign an interest for a couple of minutes before the food was served. Wanting to make quick work of my meal, I shoveled down the food as best I could without breaking one of the sacred rules, but my mother's keen eye caught onto my haste.

"Pace yourself, darling. You will upset your stomach that way," she scolded, taking dainty bites of her own food as an example. "It does not suit a lady to eat so quickly."

Reluctantly I complied to my mother's wishes, slowing to a pace that a snail would likely find agreeable. As I chewed carefully, I kept my eye on the old grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the room. It was my one scrap of sanity during these painful morning ordeals. I waited until the minute hand rested on bronze five and gulped down the last of my orange juice.

"May I please be excused?" I asked, already halfway out of my seat.

My father wiped his mouth on his napkin, giving a nod that overrode the lecture the mother looked about to give me.

"Of course." He winked knowingly. "There are a couple of coins on the table by the door for you."

I grinned at my father and then walked mannerly through the door. When I reached the hallway, all formality was lost and I sprinted down the hallway toward the front door. I slowed only to scoop the coins from the small, decorative table that stood in the middle of the entrance hall. In any other moment I would say how I hated that little table because it often got in my way, but right now I had something else on my mind as I walked out the front door and onto the streets of Manhattan.