undergrounds | gonna drink bacardi like it's yo birthday [nancy's 20]

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gonna drink bacardi like it's yo birthday [nancy's 20]

Twenty. Gods, Nancy could hardly believe it. She didn't expect to still be here for this day, truth be told. She knew the sort of life she lived, and the sorts of people she associated with. But against all odds, here she was. Twenty-years-old by Fagin's count, and as wonderful as that was...

It was odd. She'd been a teenager for so long, and now she was officially a twenty-something. An adult, for real this time, not like when she'd turned eighteen.

It didn't exactly help that Charley Bates had decided it was a great idea to call her 'old'. She'd hit the back of his head for that, refusing to consider herself old. She was still so young, at least in comparison to those she spent most of her time around, people that were centuries older than her.

This, of course, caused her some angst. She hadn't particularly wanted to celebrate her birthday. It wasn't anything to be glad about. She was, as she realized, three years physically older than Cooper. And that just felt... weird. She knew, mentally, he was far older than she was. And as he always said she was stuck with him until she was old and grey, but...

Would he still love her, then, she wanted to know? How weird would it be, an haggard old woman next to this cute seventeen-year-old kid. A chill ran up her spine when she thought about it, comparing the wretch that Fagin was to her hypothetical-old-woman-self.

If she lived that long.

Still, people want to celebrate with her. Eames, wonderful Eames, had surprised her with tickets to go see a show on the West End, and taken her out to an amazing restaurant. She'd even brought cake over to the boys', knowing a few of them had saved up to get her something. Or, likely, stole it. But she didn't reach out, not really. If you were lucky enough to know it was her birthday, however, she'd happily entertain any and all plans. There was no need to be rude, after all.

---

Nancy's 20 aww yiss.
Uhm, this is an open post. A few starters in the comments. Want something specific? Please let me know!

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"We'd try, Nance, you know that," speaking not just for himself, but all the lads. He was often chosen as speaker for all of them, there was no real difference in him doing it here.

"I believe you." But they likely wouldn't get to meet him until they could figure this out.

"I think you two will get along, at least." Nancy takes the hat off, setting it with the gloves. "You're a good kid, Dodger. I don't think you hear it enough."

"Who wants to be good?" It's cheeky, and he knows it, but it's something he'd attest to. Good is boring, it's much more fun being artful.

"Fine; you're the worst ever. That any better?" Sometimes he certainly seemed like it.

"You come over for dinner one night. I'll introduce you two all proper."

"It'll do for now," another cheeky grin to close his statement because of course.

"For dinner?" It seems an odd request.

"Yes. Lunch, something, I don't know. I do, of all people, want you to meet him." She loved him the most, sorry not sorry.

The Dodger looked at her, sighed, and then scratched the side of his neck, as he turned his head to not have to meet her eyes.

"I'll try, Nance, give you me word on that."

She nods appreciatively. "Thanks, love. I'm sorry things are so complicated."

They'd been easier, with Bill, at least.

The Dodger can't help but fix Nancy with a look.

"When ain't our lives been complicated?"

Nancy laughs, just a little, into her glass of gin.

"They had a bit of a rhythm. Before." When Bill had been here. She'd liked the reliability of having someone to come home to.

"And then there were the times when the rhythm was shot." When Bill's temper had been pushed to it's edge, when the moon was due, when someone coughed the wrong way around Sikes... There were more moments the Dodger could remember being unpredictable and dangerous than he could good moments.

Well, 'cept Christmases.

The boys only had ever seen the wrong side of him. The angry part, which, admittedly, was a lot. But his temper was explosive- it didn't last. They didn't get to see the man who would kill anyone that so much as looked the wrong way at Nancy. The man who would curl up with his dog all night long if he had the opportunity.

She had some really great pictures, hidden away on her phone.

"No, even in there, it was steady. Since he left..." Since he'd been arrested.

That night had been awful. She'd heard about it second hand, some fae that she later recognized as Eames had come over to yell at Fagin, and she'd been in the corner sobbing with all her teenage heart, drinking until she passed out.

She sighed.

"We shouldn't talk about him here."

"I remember."

He'd been younger. Sikes wasn't the first one he'd seen bein' locked up, but it was the hardest one. None of them understood - Sikes was their idol, he was the best, he shouldn't have been locked up. He remembers the yellin', too. They thought all the lads were asleep, the Dodger included. He hadn't been. He stood an' listened, hidden from sight.

"Not the place?"

They had known Nancy was there. She'd been useless to them that night, hardly able to speak for all her sorrow. She remembered it well, until she blacked out. She'd woken up that morning with the dog curled up next to her.

She nodded.

"Right. Cooper's out, but... It ain't the place." Rude, even, to talk about Bill here.

Bulls-eye. The best dog. The Dodger didn't know where it was now. Don't think anyone did.

"Where is the place?"

Nancy did. He'd passed some time ago, bringing about Juliet for her warm fuzzy friend.

"Not here." Not in the den, either. "Maybe my office." That's what she was calling it, anyway.

There was an eyebrow raise at that. He'd heard it called a lot of things, but 'office' weren't one of them. Each to their own though, an' it weren't like he were going to call Nance on what she called her place of work - she didn't like him even askin' about it.

She calls it an office, because it's a proper flat in Canary Warf. It's big, and it's wonderful, and it's hers. It... elevates her work, honestly. Lets her charge a bit more.

"I don't know, Dodge. Just not in Cooper's place."

He gives a nod. He doesn't really understand what Nance's thinking is on this one, but he'll go with it.

Her thinking isn't always the most rational. But to talk about one ex while living with her boyfriend seemed strange. besides what if Cooper came in in the middle of it? She'd have some explaining to do, and she doesn't fancy coming home to find him waiting and drinking. She'd seen him do that once, and it had been more than enough to remind her of Bill.

subject change.

"What're you doing the rest of the day?"

"Except I've got go do some of the graft," the Dodger reacts to the subject change in the way he does everything - takes it in his stride. He's realising quick that, for whatever reason, Nancy wants to keep the Bill stuff hidden. He's ... not sure of the why, though he can guess to a couple of reasons, but he'll play along. For now.

There are a million reasons to not want to talk about Bill. Mostly because it was hard to explain that she had an older werewolf boyfriend that was currently in prison.

"I won't keep you, if you've got to go," she says. "But if you do, I'm giving you something warm for the road. Maybe a lunch, too."

"Yer a toff, Nance," the Dodger grinned wide. Something warm was a brilliant prospect.

"Alright, what you want, then? Cup of tea, sandwich?" She'd give him a travel mug to take with him, enchanted to hold a whole pot of tea.

"Tea would be great. Right nip out now, ain't there?"

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