Dodger took a puff of his pipe, his eyes roaming around the riff-raff of the tavern. More than a few made brief eye contact with him, a silent declaration that they were abiding their time and waiting – as expected – to be called forth. It was a good arrangement and Jack, for better or worse, was glad for the direction of the serving girl. It gave him a moment to think and the boy at his side to finish transcribing all his rulings.
Jack smiled graciously and tipped his cup at her exclamation of his work being important. If only she knew the half of it.
“Come now,” he said after taking a draught, “I’m only the messenger carrin’ out His word. Importance doesn’t come into play until much higher up.”