"I'm sorry, we just don't have any more today.  Come back tomorrow.  Earlier.  We should have some more bread by then." By her girth alone, Anna was sure that the woman who worked in this particular soup kitchen had never gone hungry even a single day in her life - let alone three days. 

Anna had been on the bus for two days traveling toward the city where she heard they still had some jobs that paid well for those willing to put in an honest day's labor.  Of course, like most everything these days, that had turned out to be untrue.  People were hurting for work as bad here, if not worse than they had been in Caldecott County, Mississippi.

The voluptuous brunette in a flannel shirt and well-worn denim breeches turned and walked back through the crowd of people who were also hoping for a bite to eat.  She was as low as she'd ever been.  Belly complaining, head aching, and tired she settled down onto a street bench.  Unsure where to go or what to do next.  She was desperate for some way to make money.  If an opportunity didn't present itself soon she'd have to admit failure and head back home and simply wait to die.

She'd been told the streets still offered hope to those with big dreams and the courage to seek them but did they?  The wind blew a few strands of hair into her face, she pushed them aside and looked out across the landscape - the dingy buildings and alleyways full of refuse.  The men laying in gutters whimpering from withdrawal pains, casualties of prohibition, unwanted scars on the face of humanity.  What had she really thought to find here?  As she stared upward at the great structures of steel and glass she imagined the world as the stories had said it was, a world that she was sure had to be here somewhere, perhaps hiding just beneath the ugly surface.

Finleigh knew that look. She'd recognize that expression anywhere... eyes fighting for hope against the hideous, encroaching desperation of reality. Fin often found that no matter what country or city you landed in, the world hurt too much to look at. So she spent much of her life refusing; staring longingly past the unbearable, ugly truth for any hint of hope or humanity. She'd escaped a war and landed right in the middle of the depression. And in the midst, overlooking all of it had become almost second nature. But to see that same look so clearly in the eyes of another stopped her in her tracks. 

Back-tracking to the bench, she slipped gingerly onto the seat next to Anna quietly. Reaching into her bag, Fin fished a small sandwich tin from its depths and slid it across the street bench with a soft smile. "Come now, lass," the petite blonde coaxed through a lingering accent, "ain't as bad as all that." Finleigh stretched, gaze following the shining steel and glass skyward. "This country... these streets... still hold opportunities fer them that's audacious enough ta make their own." She sighed softly as she glanced about, "but it does take a damn bit o' gettin' used to." 

Looking back to the woman, Fin smiled sadly. "Once upon a time," she said forlornly, "I used ta help women like yerself get settled an' whatnot. Sittin' here today feels like those days was a long time ago. Lately, it seems like I haven't been able ta help much o' anybody." Pursing her lips, Finleigh looked around at the sad state this area found itself in. "But, tha look in yer eyes got's me thinkin' it may be time ta rethink that." 

Grinning, she reached into the breast pocket of her black duster, producing a few carefully folded bills and a business card with a Los Angeles address. Offering them discreetly to the despondent looking brunette, Fin continued. "Yer gonna want ta hide those," she gestured to both the food and the money, "S'like carryin' aroun' a target on yer back in these parts. Sadly. But... there's enough there fer a'least a couple o' days stay in a decent 'otel." Fin shook her head at the tired circles under the young woman's eyes. "I got a couple o' friends whats been helpin' me back on my feet. I figure it's about time I paid it forward. Ye go an' get yerself some rest. Wash up, eat, sleep. Iffin, after a couple o' days, ye think ye got tha balls ta create yer own hope instead o' searchin' fer it in tha architecture," she paused to gesture jokingly up at the buildings they'd both been eyeing, "then ring me up at that address an' we'll see if maybe there's not more where this came from fer ye, yeah?"

A sleek black Packard Twelve pulled up near the bench where Fin and AnnaMarie were sitting. The engine idled for a short while before it died and the door opened. Dom stepped out and shot Fin a look before his eyes panned over to Anna with a nod.

"Evening ladies." He puffed on a cigarette and approached, shutting the car door behind him.

"Sorry I'm late," he bowed his head to Fin as he spoke. "Got held up in traffic on the other side of town. Who's your friend?"

Pointing to Anna, he smiled at her and then introduced himself.

"Dominique Coniglio at your service. Any friend of Fin's is a friend of mine, doll."

He offered his hand and winked.