(Untitled)

[jack_artful]

It wasn’t until Dodger had tumbled out of bed, hopped to the front door tugging his trousers on, stumbled outside with his hat in hand, shirt, waistcoat, cravat, and coat loose, rumpled, and untucked, and staggered out to Millbank street, with Westminster Abbey to his left, and the Thames in from him, that he realized something wasn’t right.  It

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[jack_artful]

Dodger blinked, but then it did seem to all fall into place. If this was some sort of Island magic and trickery, then it explained the differences, the phantoms, and the Homestead cropping up on Millbank rather than the school that was supposed to be there. If the Island could sprout up a carnival and toys coming to life, surely making a replica of London was not outside of its reach. Dodger expected a rush of disappointment at not being back in London, where he came from, where he belonged, but it never came. Instead, all he felt was relief that this was still the Island in some shape and form, with all the people from it.

Truth be told, there was nothing for him in his own London - unless he stole it, and while he could provide just fine for himself, without a fence and a place to stay, there was no way he could keep the handful of younger boys with him, the remnants of Fagin's gang, from starving or the workhouses. He'd rather be on the Island, but that was a difficult realization to come to.

"It don't smell as bad as it should," Dodger noted, as more proof this was the Island's doing rather than really where he was from. "And it ain't as foggy as it should be, s'pecially in Winter."

[haolehothead]

"Well, for the sake of my nostrils, thank god it doesn't smell as bad as it ought to," he says, definitive in his attitude that he's extremely happy with this fact. "I mean, but other than that. Other than the smell not being dead on and the fog being a weak, wispy, thin thing, how are you feeling with this? I mean, it's gotta be more like home."

[jack_artful]

"I thought..." Dodger didn't really have a reason to keep it to himself, but he somehow felt that if he said out loud that it would make it that much more permanent a feeling. And there was something sad in not wanting to go back, when Dodger had taken such pride in knowing those streets better than anyone. "I thought it was my London, at first?" The way he said it as a question, hesitant, made him sound for once like boy he still was. He wasn't looking at Danny, instead out at the white snow, which was never really that white in actual London, but instead turned grey with the soot and the fog by the time it reached the ground.

"But I'm ain't sorry that it's not." That had some of Dodger's determined grit to it, just a bit colouring the words.

[haolehothead]

"Okay, okay, hold on." Danny squints and tries to work through the various negatives, double-negatives, and possibly triple-negatives of that sentence. "So, are you happy to be here or you're happy that it's looking like home or...what? You gotta help me out a little, here."

[jack_artful]

Dodger did meet his eyes then, frustrated - he couldn't get any more plain English than that. The Queen couldn't say it much more clearer than that. "I should want it to be 'ome - but I ain't disappointed that it isn't. And I should be disappointed, aye? But I ain't!" The more he repeated it, the more emphatic he got.

[haolehothead]

"Okay, okay, hold your horses, I got it this time," Danny promises, nodding with his head to the nearest building. "Hey, what do you say we go inside and grab something to eat? I'm starved and freezing. All this time in the tropics has made me weak when it comes to the cold."

[jack_artful]

Given the haunting familiarity of his surroundings, even if they were not-quite-right, Dodger realized his stomach had the old pinched feeling of constant hunger and irregular meals - even if he was certain that he'd had a sizeable dinner the night before. "Aye." He shoved a hand under his hat to dig his fingers into his hair, before righting it with the brim. "You got any money?"

[haolehothead]

"What, why would I have money?" Danny asks with a snort, turning out his empty pockets considering that it's been a long time since he's had to use any kind of currency -- which, thankfully, has kept Danny's mind off how pathetically broke he is at home.

[jack_artful]

"It's London, ain't it, even if it's an Island-London?" He explained, his fingers twitching in his deep jacket pockets, because acquiring things without money was his specialty. "Everythin' 'as a price, unless you take it without payin' it." He was certain of that, or at least he had been a second ago, now he wasn't so sure - things were free on the Island, but he was finding it difficult to imagine anything being without cost with these sorts of surroundings.

[haolehothead]

"Okay, well, you are frightening me right now because I'd like to know where you got the money if you have it," Danny says, in a tone that implies that Jack won't like the punishment if it was stolen. "So, lemme ask. Do you have money? And if so, where'd you get it from?"

[jack_artful]

Dodger's mouth pressed into a line, eyebrows drawing together. He automatically took a step away, his fight or flight reflexes well-trained when faced with that kind of suspicion. "I don't got any money!" He said defensively, chin up. "That's the problem, ain't it?"

[haolehothead]

"Okay, okay, calm down," Danny insists, holding out both hands. "Hey, come on, what do you say we go to my place? Food's free there, you just have to be willing to be patient while I cook something up. That okay?"

[jack_artful]

Dodger chose not to mention that he could still acquire foodstuffs, money or not, especially with the way that Danny had reacted to the idea of nicking just a little money. "Yes. Just -" he paused, looking out over the Thames to where around the bend and a few bridges away Spitalfields would lie, next to Whitechapel. "I 'ave to see," he tried to explain, without giving away too much, "if the ol' gen'leman's residence is still there. First off."

[haolehothead]

"You want me to come with?" Danny asks, seeing as he'd rather ask for permission in this case. The last thing he needs or wants is to have Jack upset with him because he did something without asking -- which, yes, is his go-to habit, but he's trying to learn from that and grow as a person.

[jack_artful]

Dodger had to think about that for a moment, his brow furrowing as he considered the situation. They'd left Fagin's in Spitalfields all in a rush to Toby's lodgings on Jacob's Island when Dodger gave word that Nancy had peached. Bill had stomped off after her, with Fagin warbling behind not to be too violent - and Dodger started to realize just what he'd done. But they'd had to leave, and quick, because Nancy had sent the police to Fagin's den, and the thought of the traps coming for them had stricken Dodger's mind with fear.

Was it still there? Had Fagin evaded the traps yet again, and returned to his old haunt? He had his treasures, hidden away - if anyone could bribe his way out of a cell and a sentence, it was that notorious fence. Dodger wasn't afraid of the neighbourhood - he knew these streets better than anyone, some buildings replaced or not - but he was afraid of the Bow Street Runners. Some policemen knew his face, and knew his reputation. Worse, he knew how easily Fagin could arrange for someone to grab him, to stick him, to peach on him, if his earlier abandonment had struck a chord. He could handle the old man one-to-one, but the old Jew was too wily for that. He could go back alone, but...

"A covey does need a body-guard now and then, I s'pose." Dodger answered, a little too upbeat.

[haolehothead]

"Hey," Danny says brightly, clapping Jack on the shoulder as he starts to walk them in the direction that he'd mentioned before. This is more than he'd expected, so he's going to take advantage of it every minute he gets. "See? That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"