The Dodger ends up fishing around in his pockets, pulling out a ton of change - most of it in coppers - and carefully counting it up. There's just enough to get him a hot cup of tea from a nearby snack van, and he heads off in that direction, handing over the change with a muttered sorry. Still, it gets him his tea and he wraps his hands around the Styrofoam cup with a small grin.

He's vaguely aware of a feeling on the back of his neck, like he's being followed but granted in this weather it could just be a chill. He walks down the street sipping at his tea and trying to keep the warmth in.