Jack 'Jackie' Dawkins (king_of_thieves) wrote in thedarkera, @ 2015-04-26 01:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | z-artful dodger, z-bar maid |
The King is taking audience at The Britannia
Jack heaved a sigh and flailed at hand at the young street urchin by his side. The boy was a few years short of his majority but he could read and write and that, given his circumstance in life, was a blessing that would take him far. Said boy scribbled notes down on a worn piece of parchment, recording Jacks’ ruling of the last case and Jack had enough faith in him not to watch.
Jackie, on the other hand, drained the rest of his glass and sat back lower in his seat. His worn boots clapped up against the table top, one foot crossing over the other as he patted his pockets first for his pouch of tobacco and second for a match, the latter of which seemed to elude him.
All these decisions took their toll. For hours he’d been listening to and presiding over claims of ‘this person did that’, and ‘this man took this’ and Jack was starting to feel as if the weight of the streets really did rest on his shoulders. If he had to listen to one more plea from a street vendor feeling that they’d been taken for a ride by a group of pickpockets, or claims that a group of snakesman had been cheated to the punch by a team of toolers than Jack was going to lose his mind.
But then, he guessed, this was what gave him power. Lead to the idea of him being a king in his own right. King of the streets. He knew all, listened to all, and decided all. His ruling was law around here and, for those not in the know, his ruling dictated the words of The Dodger.
Here in the Britannia, Jack was simply ‘Jack’. Jackie to some, Sir to others, he was neither The Artful Dodger nor even just Dodge. Here he got to play his own right hand man; a face and a voice of all that he stood for while still not being the overlord himself. The Britannia was, in fact, a happy middle ground for him. Some tipped their hats in due respect, being part of the select society that knew Jack for exactly what – more who – he was, while others still paid their due respects, knowing his connection to The Artful Boss ran deep.
It was a good and safe arrangement that he had going, though there was a part of him that really wished he could find someone trustworthy enough to be the face of his face of his own dictatorship; save him having to play the two roles.
But until that person come stumbling on into his life, he was left playing both the lord and servant and neither had time for rest. Sometimes keeping up appearances really had a hidden downside.
“Next,” Jack sighed out while still looking for a light.