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

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.

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"Shake what outta me? Ain't done nothin'," he backed a few steps away, keeping his voice deliberately louder. Get people's attention, make them aware. It was always best when a mark confronted you - especially when they were older an' looked older.

People were definitely looking at the pair of them. Cooper's eyes darted around the crowd. There's no way he'd be able to just grab the nuisance and take care of him. "Now, now, no reason to get excited." Cooper's voice had gone deliberately calm. He pasted a smiling expression on his face, projecting an easygoing air. "Guess I was mistaken."

He approached Dodger, throwing an arm around his shoulders. It looked friendly from the outside, but his fingers soon tightened. Cooper hissed to Dodger. "Now you're comin' with me or I'm gonna toss you into traffic 'n let the cars decide this."

"You toss me into traffic, mate," the Dodger hisses back, "an' that crowd what I made sure are now watchin' you will have yer guts." Oh, he didn't like getting violent, he didn't - preferred to let others do it - but when you're bein' threatened, it's best to be able to speak back on their level.

"Now, what are you on about?" Folding his arms, keeping a watchful eye.

"You took my motorcycle keys." If they were alone, he'd be tempted to shake Dodger like a terrier with a rat. Since he can't, he's hoping he can make the thief see reason. "Give 'em back 'n I'll let you keep the watch. We'll call it square."

He frowns at the kid. "Or keep playin' games 'n we'll see how creative I can get when I tape you upside down to a lamppost." Don't test him, kid. He's actually done it before to annoying hunters.

The Dodger watches him, carefully weighing up the options. Frankly, it ain't worth the being discovered, though he could make the out-right threat turn against this guy again, if he just raised his voice enough. But was it worth it for the bike? For Fagin to know what he did to get out without a scrape?

Not really

He pushes past the man. "Ain't got a clue what yer on about. Didn't take any keys. Can't even drive, so why would I have yer keys?"

The keys would be back in the guy's pocket now. He was called artful for a reason

"Uh-huh. Like I believe that, you little nui--" Then Cooper puts his hand back in his pocket and feels the familiar shape of his keys. He pulls them out, looking from them to Dodger and back again.

That was smooth. So smooth that Cooper would have thought he was going crazy if he was absolutely convinced his keys hadn't been there thirty seconds ago. He scowls at Dodger, unable to do a single thing to the little purloiner of valuables. "Clever. Very clever, kid." And he still had his watch. Someone had gotten the better of this situation and it definitely wasn't Cooper.

Of course he had gotten the better.

He was the Artful Dodger, what did you expect?

(Though he's a bit miffed he didn't get to go on the bike for a bit)

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

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