undergrounds | if you hear any noise it ain't the boys [lady's night!]

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if you hear any noise it ain't the boys [lady's night!]

A Nancy's actually just in a pair of jeans and a hoodie when she knocks on Lydia's door. She's got a bag filled with all sorts of necessities- makeup, a dress to wear out tonight, some killer heels. Oh, and of course, she's got booze. plenty of booze, because that's just what Lydia wanted. A pre-party. And even if Rhapsody in Red was pretty chill, who was she to say no to some drinks with a new friend before a night out?

"Lydia! Hey, love! How are you?" She coos, moving in for a hug when the door is answered. "I hope you don't mind, I figured I'd just get ready here. Cooper was in the shower." And as much as she loved a naked boyfriend, it was pretty distracting when you were trying to do your eyeliner and the mirror kept fogging up.

B Nancy had already sent a text to Caroline, to let her know the plan, and that she was supposed to join them after her shift for a few drinks. The message was passed along to Allison, as well. The more the merrier, Nancy figured, and all these lovely ladies should probably get to know one-another. They were young, pretty girls in a big city, and most of them were relatively new to London.

Upon arriving at the lounge, Nancy claimed them a table with a good view of the stage so they could watch Caroline, and straight-shot to the bar. Though she and Lydia had already had plenty to drink, and Nancy had her never-ending flask in her bag, she didn't know how far along anyone else would be. Plus, drinks. Just, drinks.

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It may be a ladies night that Nance came out for, but it just so happened that the Dodger had gotten it in his head to go out for a night as well. And he happened to pick the same place. His ID is good, you wouldn't be able to tell it was a forgery unless you were really good at spotting them. He's dressed a bit better, but that's only because his usual wear - which works well for trailing the London streets - would have him out on his ear.

He's got a drink in one hand, and seems to be doing business with the other. Well, it's not like Fagin ever lets them get a night off. He's chatted nice to the people he needs to chat nice too, and his grip on his drink speaks of practice.

(Don't rat him out to those in charge, Nance.)

Dodger, for his part, gets a look of recognition tossed his way by Nancy. He looks great, a bit young, but who the hell cares? She's not about to scold him for underage drinking, not when she's been constantly plying him with alcohol whenever he's around.

Just so long as he notices who she is with and decides to never ever ever pick-pocket them again, they should be good.

He does notice and, on a quiet moment, moves over to Nance. There's an awkward look on his face, and he rubs his neck in a way that signals something is probably going to cause a lot of stress to try to get fixed the way it should.

"You know I can't get the stuff back, right?"

Nancy softens immediately when she notices the look on his face. She knows him too well, just as he knows her even better.

"I know." They both knew the devil, too. He'd pawn anything that fell into his grimy hands the second he could. Bastard that he was. He didn't care about any of them- they were all just a means to an ends. But he was good at fooling them to think they were.

She looks over at Dodger, not about to ask him why he's here, but basically just asking him. Even though she already knows the answer.

So instead she asks: "Does he want more from me?" He had to. It'd been a few months now, since she'd change vocations, and the money she'd been getting had changed, too. She was working hourly now, rather than menu prices. And though it was a slide down on the pay scale, she was certainly happier about her money, despite the decrease in it. Still, she'd give all the money she could to the boys, in hopes of helping them, despite knowing it would go straight into Fagin's pockets.

What made it worse was Cooper. He'd made it clear he'd love to let her stop working, and support her financially. He'd had nearly 300 years of money. But this was Nancy, and if she had nothing else, she still had her pride.

"Says he done with you," the Dodger said. "He were... angry. That night. Really angry. Says he's washin' his hands of you an' you ain't to come cryin' back to him when the money ain't there." He gives a shrug.

"So, no, he ain't wantin' you." There was a pause, and he's contemplating asking if Cooper's new position was the only reason she changed jobs, but then it weren't really a job Nance had all that much fondness for in the first place, was it? It was a thing. A thing that had to do whether they liked it or not.

"How's the new job?"

Nancy's face falls immediately as she looks over Dodger. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She closes her eyes for a moment and immediately reaches for her glass. Fagin's angry. Fuck, of course he is. She rubs at her temples, cursing under her breath.

Something inside of her curls and uncurls, gnawing at the pit of her stomach. It's not hunger, that much is clear, because she knows what hunger is. This is something else, sitting lower and it's bigger. Much more dark.

She pushes her hair back from her face and finishes her drink. "Are you all alright?" Is all she can think of to ask. When Fagin's angry, that's when he's the worst sort. Worse than usual. That's how she ended up in A&E last January. She should have been done with him then. But the boys were there, the boys were always there, and they were innocent. They didn't deserve half of the shit Fagin did to them, or put them through, and now they didn't even have her there as some sort of buffer.

But now he's cut her out of their lives- oh if he thinks she ain't going to keep bringing them food and spending time with them, he's dead wrong. Bastard doesn't control her life anymore, and she'd be damned if he kept her out of her brothers' lives.

Dodger plays it off like it's nothing, but it's something. Honestly, she should be relieved and she knows that. But he'd just... cut her out. Just like that. This man who raised her and told her he cared about her, and took care of her. And now it was all gone. She should be relieved. Celebrating. But her voice is tight, the tip of her nose is red, and if you looked closely, her glass was shaking, and the small candle on the table was now sputtering.

"Tell him he can go fuck himself," she says, before fishing into her purse for her flask. She pours herself another drink, and pockets the flask again. There's another drink to be had, and once she's swallowed the candle stops flickering.

"It's a job." Still under the table, not exactly really legal yet. But it was something. "I don't have t'wear heels anymore, so that's been heaven on my feet. Trainers and boots- gotta have your toes covered in the garage." There, they can talk about her job. That'll help her keep everything else at bay. And if that doesn't, that's what the alcohol is for.

There's a moment, where it looks like he's considering the question, which is he. How did you answer that anyway? They both knew what Fagin could get like, even if he hid it in playing the role of the gentle caretaker to lost little kids. Fagin could be vicious and invoking his anger was never something that anyone who actually knew the crook wanted.

"Are you all alright?" No. Probably not. The slack had to be picked up and the Dodger was always the one who had to do it. He takes a deep drink from his bottle, draining it before he takes it away and shrugs.

"We're always alright."

It was a mantra, really, for being part of Fagin's lot. The Dodger looked up to the man, he supposed, in a sort of father like role, but damn he hated when the man got angry. He breathed deeply, the weird smell of heat and sweat hitting his nose and being a strange sort of comfort. Nancy needed to stop worrying, or he'd use it. He always used it.

"You enjoyin' it?" It was safer, to talk about her new job. It was safer ground, and it didn't go to the dark corners that neither of them liked looking into.

Nancy forces a smile as she looks over at her favorite brother (Don't tell the others, but Dodger was easily her favorite of the lot of them. They understood each other on a level the others didn't quite). "Yeah, we are, ain't we?" They were fine, they were alright. They were alive, they had food on their tables and a roof over their head. That's all they needed.

But they all knew the truth. They weren't alright. They were poor, lost children who would go to anyone who offered them comfort. And that person just happened to be Fagin.

"Yeah. Lots of counting, but we both know that's the sort of thing I'm good at. Normal hours. It's good, means I can be home with Cooper more often. And see you lot, too." she smiles, seeming to relax into the conversation. "You enjoying your takeaway?" She always brought some over, courtesy of Eames. They never discussed it. It just happened.

They all knew Fagin was no good. Oh, maybe a couple of the kids didn't, but it didn't take long for any innocence to disappear when they where in his comapny. But it helped. To pretend.

"It's been good countin' on a regular meal," he admits with a tired grin. Some of the lads had been a bit forgetful, lately, on who's turn it was to try to get them dinner. Stuff liked that happened more than any of them would like.

A regular meal. And now she couldn't even help them with that- not that Fagin didn't pocket most of the money she turned into him, anyway. Not that he ever would again.

"Good. I'll keep it up as long as I can. Eames' been good to me, and to you lot by extension." She didn't like charity. But when they didn't talk about it, when it just *happened*, that was something better.

He gives a nod, knowing what she's saying without really needing to say it. It'd always been like that, them able to read each other better than the others. Mind you, Nance had a gift for it. Most of the ones Fagin took in had some kind of gift, the Dodger reckoned, but bugger knows which ones knew about it.

She takes another drink in the silence. that's what she liked about Dodger: they could have entire conversations without saying a single word.

"You should go apologize to Caroline," she says after a moment, pointing to the blonde.

He looks over at the blonde she points to and there's another heavy sigh. He knows he should apologize to her, of course he does, but knowing and doing are two very different things, especially when the doing here would require telling the girl in question that her items would likely never be returned to her unless they got very lucky.

"I know," is all he says, staring at the floor.

She sighs, putting a hand over toward him in a comforting gesture. Do the right thing, Dodge.

"The other girls, Allison and Lydia, they're off-limits, too now." She didn't want their kleptomania to ruin any friendships. She didn't expect him to know that, necessarily. But it was still important.

Doing the right thing was hard when it went against everything you'd ever been taught to do. Hell, been encouraged to do. He looked at the other girls - frowning as he he vaguely recognized Lydia from that one time at a shop - but nodding to show that he understood what Nancy was saying.

"Thanks, love," she told him warmly, her smile echoing it. He'd managed to get her into a Fagin-related funk, and quickly pull her out of it. But it was something she'd keep tucked away for when she wasn't with her friends. Allow herself a bit of a cry later tonight when she crawled in bed with Cooper.

He'd tell her it was for the best, though. That she should be happy.

If only it were going to be that easy.

She wasn't the only one in a funk

At least she could show it when she went to the place she called home.

She knew he wouldn't, but the offer was still there. HE could come to her with anything. And if he ever wanted a place to be where he could show his funk, well, Cooper's place was big enough she wouldn't have to see Dodger if he didn't want her to.

But he wouldn't.

And she wouldn't.

It's how they managed to keep going, wasn't it? They were always alright. Same with all of Fagin's kids.

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if you hear any noise it ain't the boys [lady's night!]

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