[open] From the Cripples to St. James'...

[knowntohisfriends]

There's a right nip in the air when the Dodger steps out in the early morning to begin his business for the day. Well, his business, Fagin's business, it's all the same when it comes down to brass coins dragged from the bottom of pockets. He rubs his hands together, making a note to lift himself some gloves at some point during the day - if he recollects correctly, the ones from last year weren't really as decent as he would have liked. Not terrible, but for a gent of taste like himself, they weren't up to scratch.

Scratch... scratchings... pork scratchings. Hm. His stomach grumbled a bit. Looks like the sausages at the den weren't enough. Right, well that decided the plan for the day then. Breakfast first, and then on with the work of the day. The markets would be the best places to check. Maybe the one down by St James, folks would be too distracted to pay attention to a kid nipping among them.

Seemed like a good plan, and the Dodger grinned, adjusting his hat to just the right angle.

Right. Time for work.