New York's natural alarm clock was the only thing Charlie needed of a morning to drag himself out of wherever he'd managed to hole up that night, it was everything, really. Young boys bellowing about news whilst flailing cheap papers at any poor passer by, or the almost comedic wail of the horns of automobiles, their impatient occupants stupid enough to think they'll get any headway on the most hectic streets in the country, or in the world for all he knew. It was that kind of routine, the nine-to-five as it had more recently been clocked, that Charlie feared with a passion. How someone could ever toil away in a stuffy little office watching the world quite literally pass by their window in a haze of pollutants and self-importance was beyond him. But, it wasn't as though he was anything noble. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure what he was. Some people thought he was a famous singer from California, some people thought he was a noble from overseas, raised in Oxford. Some even thought he was a member of the city council, or an undercover detective, and each and every one of them knew him by another name. But, his mother, god rest her soul, had always known him as Charlie.
Taking in his surroundings, the events of the previous day unfolded in his mind, he'd gotten a couple bucks from convincing a grumpy old gentleman that his car needed 'wiper insurance', hilariously he had been so caught up with his distressingly young secretary that he'd handed the money over without a second thought, it was dumb luck like this that sustained Charlie day by day, and so far it hadn't run out.
Of course Charlie wasn't without talents, he'd been told he'd make a great salesman, something that tickled him with laughter to no end at every thought, and he could certainly hold his own in jazz clubs, his sombre tones a hilarious contrast to his comically quick speaking voice. But, both had gotten him places, and he had heard whispers of a club nearby.
)