Elias and his pals sat on the shingles of a series of row houses near Veilgarden, their little legs hanging off the edge and kicking absentmindedly. They were not an uncommon sight in the grand city; London was full of nearly feral children like themselves and the sight of five boys sitting on a rooftop barely called for a second glance.
"What you lot wanna do today?" asked Biggim, picking at a loose thread on his ragged trousers. He was by far the biggest of the group, a portly boy with a double chin, while the rest were thin, scrawny kids. His actual name was Martin, but, being the biggest of the group the other boys took to calling him "Big M", which became "Biggim" after a time.
"I dunno, mate. 'ow 'bout we go to the docks and throw rocks at the zee-bats?" Stinky suggested, tossing a pebble onto the street below. The boy lived up to his moniker. Even among this filthy and dirty group, he was by far the smelliest.
"No, Stinky, I don't wanna do that today. We did that yesterday, you smelly git." Biggim said, pinching his nose in a mocking gesture as he spoke.
Elias, or "Jimmy Slip" to his friends, laid back on the shingles of the rooftop, looking up at the cave wall and listening to the others banter. A small drop of water landed on his cheek, and a few more followed. It was beginning to rain.
"Let's head down, boys," Chuck, the oldest of the group (at the ripe age of 13) ordered, "it's beginning to rain." Chuck had an educated accent, which hinted at a proper upbringing. He didn't like to brag about it, but he was the only child in the group who could read. And, as the eldest, the default leader.
The boys began climbing down the gutter pipe they had used to reach the roof earlier. As the last one reached the cobbled stone street, they looked around. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the group scanned the street looking for shelter. "Oi," Biggim yelled, "let's get under that stoop right there, see?" he pointed to a sewer opening under a set of stairs leading to a home across the street. The sewers were relatively dry, only a small trickle of dirty water usually flowing in the very bottom of channel.
As the group hurried across the street, Petey, the smallest, youngest, and shiest quietly said, "Jimmy, I'm 'ungry."
Biggim, at the head of the group, managed to overhear Petey. "Shut it, Petey. 'ow can you be so 'ungry all the time? Look at you, mate, you're nothing but skin and bones, you shouldn't need to eat more'n twice a week!" he picked up a rock in the street and threw it Petey, hitting him in the shoulder. Petey let out a low whimper in response and brought his chin to his chest.
"Biggim," Elias said, angrily, "why you always gotta pick on Petey, mate? Pick on someone else, someone your own size..." he trailed off, then added, "Oh, that's right, cuz there ain't no one in the group that is your size!" Stinky burst out laughing. Chuck who was always serious, did not. Petey let a shy smile creep on his face.
"Oh shut it, you git." He sneered at both Elias and Stinky. "But Petey is right. What we 'aving for lunch today, eh?"
"Probably more mushrooms," Chuck stated, matter-of-factly. "That's all we can afford, gents."
"Jimmy," Petey said sheepishly, staring at his feet, "I'm tired of mushrooms."
"Yeah, bugger mushrooms, Split. Let's get some meat. I ain't ate meat in weeks." Biggim nodded as he spoke.
Elias put a hand on Petey's shoulder, and Petey looked up at him, the rain making streaks of clean in the soot and dirt on his face. "Alright, Petey," he said, "I'll go get us some money. What do you wanna eat, mate?"
Petey thought for a moment, then said, "Crab."
"Ah, piss on crab, mate. I 'ate that stuff. Can't we 'ave something better?" Biggim protested, but no one listened. Biggim always had to have his way.
Elias smiled at his buddy. "Alright, Petey. I'll go buy us some crab."
A giant smile erupted on Petey's face and his eyes lit up. "Really, Jimmy? Really?"
Elias just nodded and headed off down the street towards Veilgarden. He could always find an unassuming mark there.
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Elias was set up down the street from a rather busy pub. He couldn't make out the name written on the sign, but he knew it from others as the Singing Mandrake. The rain was forcing many people into the establishment, ensuring the place would be packed, and people would be bumping into each other regularly. Most would likely not notice a small hand reaching into their pockets, pulling a few pence here and there.
He casually walked down the street towards the pub, kicking at a stone in the road to try to keep a low profile. His hands were sunk deep into his own pockets, his head down facing the rock, but his eyes were trained on the establishment itself. As he was halfway down the street to the pub, a carriage rolled up. Out stepped one of the fanciest ladies he had ever seen, all dressed in red. He stopped momentarily, his mouth agape, before he came to his senses. He smirked to himself, and went back to kicking the rock down the street.
He had his mark. She was likely not used to dealing with pickpockets like him. She'd be easy to steal from. He approached the door, and slipped in behind a gentleman and lady who entered after the red woman. She stood out in the crowded floor, sitting with another woman at a table. Trying to avoid drawing unnecessary attention, he slipped through the crowd towards her table.
He watched for a moment, looking for an opening. When the two women were deep in conversation, he approached the red woman from behind, eyes locking in on her handbag, his little hand reaching out...
