Jack smiled knowingly at the girl. “Everyone has a voice,” he said, “and everyone wants to be heard. It’s what keeps us from pure chaos.”
He didn’t take offence to the words directed at his ‘master’. After all, he’d taken careful – painful – steps to ensure his anonymity. His inner circle was tightly guarded, not even the scribe at his side fully understood exactly who he was sitting next to. There were, of course, many people who knew Jack’s true identity but Jack had something dark and dangerous over every one of them, ensuring their hushed tongues through fear and promises.
To the rest of the slums and thus their world, he was simply the right hand man of The Dodger. That was at least until someone else came around and took this painful burden off his shoulders.
“Dodger says,” he grinned at that, “we shouldn’t fear it. The night is ours, the dark is ours; we should embrace the fog and make it ours too.”