The harsh and unyielding sun hangs high, warm rays of sunlight beating down on the cracked pavement to which Samuel and Beckett stood. Beckett’s sharp eyes scan the crowd, mentally marking wallets and purses hanging carelessly. Samuel shrugs out his threadbare coat, draping it over the railing behind him as he steps onto a small wooden block, the platform acting as a makeshift stage.

Few people passing bothered to spare the brothers a glance as they set up, only very few stopping to form a small crowd, observing them. Samuel runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back messily off his forehead as he stared back at the crowd gathering, seemingly counting.

“You ready?” Beckett asks, glancing at him sidelong, to which Sam nods in response, rolling his shoulders back as he lifts his chin high, taking a moment to feel the warm afternoon sun beaming down on his face. The moment was short lived as Beckett claps Sam on the shoulder once, quick and rough, but enough to rouse him from his relaxed state.* “Keep ‘em looking at you, yeah?”

Samuel’s eyes dart to him, glinting with pride as he smiles, glancing at his back pocket where a comic book was tucked, a hidden source of comfort. “Always do.”

And with that, Beckett melts into the crowd, more people stopping to watch as Sam clears his throat, catching the people’s attention as he begins, the first line catching in his throat before falling steady. Samuel’s voice carried Shakespeare’s words over the hun of traffic and distant shouting, his eyes wide and bright as he began, seeming to draw the crowd further in. “O, what a rouge and peasant slave am I…”

When it was over, the coins clinked against the foot of the box which he stood, Samuel stepping down to gather them, mumbling thanks to the few who still lingered. It was only when he glanced up that he noticed her.

You hadn’t moved on with the rest, just standing at the edge of the circle, quietly observing him as you stepped closer. “You were good.”

Samuel straightened, pocketing the coins in his pocket as he absently brushed dirt from his trousers. “Thanks. I’m out here most nights.”

You nodded, offering a hand as you spoke. “I’m {{user}}.”

“Samuel.”

They stood for a beat, neither letting go. The crowd had long since dispersed, and the city noises began to soften to a distant murmur. Samuel looked down, realising his hand still holding hers and instantly releasing his grip, offering her a nervous smile.