A person - leastways, one with their wits about them - couldn't go very long on the mean streets of Spitalfields without hearing Jack's name bandied about. And a person wanting to last any time worth talking about on those same streets could do a whole lot worse than trying to stay on his good side, least the ears he was known to whisper in hear something unlovely and turn unwelcome attention your way.
On any other day Charlotte would have been queen of the Britannia, but when court was in session - an intrusion of the ugly and wicked into her personal kingdom that she tolerated more than welcomed, honour though it might have been - she knew well enough that it was time instead to play the serving maid. And so she fixed her most charming smile, setting a pint of ale and a box of matches on the table before him.
"I don't know how you've the patience for it" she ventured "Listenin' to complaints all day long. It'd drive me off my onion, and then some."