Opening her eyes very slowly, Kat thought for a moment that she was still stuck in a dream.
Sunlight shone its way through the holes of the moth-eaten, greying curtain that hung slightly over the bed she lay in. Kat rubbed at her eyes, her mind in a slow, sleep-induced daze. She could hear the sounds of breathing, for it was certainly not just her there.
Peeking around the curtain, a view of the loft greeted Kat. Everybody was still asleep- so it was still very early in the morning. Dust particles hovered in the air, illuminated by the early spring sunlight.
Kat frowned slightly, willing her memories to come back to her, and she shook her head slowly, as if she were trying to dislodge water from her ears. She had been in London...And then what?
Then Dodger flashed into her mind, then the bun. Kat's tongue automatically darted out of her mouth, licking her lower lip as she recalled the taste of the warm bun.
Gradually, Kat's eyes adjusted to the cheerful spring sunlight that was filtering through the roof of the loft. Kat's mouth was dry, and her stomach was already pining for food. Then she remembered following Dodger through several dark streets, dashing up rickety wooden steps. Eventually, Kat had pieced together the events of yesterday, and a sudden jolt of relief went through her. She lay back down, smiling vaguely at the roof of the bed, and waited for morning officially to arrive.

"Hurry up and finish your breakfast!" Fagin was saying impatiently to a few of the boys, who were still squabbling over the last few roast potatoes, "There's work to be done, an' it won't get done with you slacking off!"
"Work?" Kat asked, licking her fingers to get any last taste of bacon.
"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten that." said Fagin, genially, though Kat had a sneaking suspicion he had forgotten nothing of the sort, "Well, my dear, you see all these pocket-'andkercheifs up there?"

Kat's eyes followed Fagin's finger to where a load of handkerchiefs was indeed hanging from the rafters. All of different colours, most of them surprisingly clean as well.
"I see 'em." agreed Kat.

"Well, these 'andkercheifs are in fact a speciality for the boys, my dear. An' Dodger tells me you're an accomplished girl yourself."

"I suppose so." Kat replied, wondering vaguely if stealing books counted as being 'accomplished.' Kat wrinkled her nose slightly. She would have corrected Fagin by telling him that she had simply come to London to get away from where she used to work, but the way Fagin worded it, it made it sound as if Katarina knew what she was doing, so she agreed, slightly reluctantly.

"Now, 'ow would you like to make your livin' like the boys do? That is, goin' out an' gettin' your own pickings. You may even be able to go up from there, my dear. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"It sounds easy." Kat replied, with a cross between a smile and a smirk on her face.

"Of course it is!” Fagin agreed, jubilantly. “Now, before you go, I think a little practise run is in order…”

A few minutes later, Kat was perched on a bench in the loft, a bright red handkerchief dangling between her thumb and index finger, a hint of a triumphant smile on her face, her hat and boots both firmly in place.

“Well, my word!” cried Fagin, and then he repeated the same thing he said to every new pickpocket that happened to stumble into his den, “You are a clever girl, my dear! I never saw a sharper lass!”

Katarina smiled again, her eyes shining at the praise as she handed the handkerchief back to Fagin.

“And how old are you, anyway, my dear?”

“I’ll be nine in a few month.” Replied Kat, hopping down from the bench. Dodger groaned slightly, realising this meant he would probably end up showing her the ropes, being only a month or so older then Kat, and sure enough,

“You let Dodger an’ the others show you the ropes, my dear, and you’ll have no trouble at all! Especially Dodger. He’s gonna turn out to be a right little…Bill Sikes.”

"Who?" Kat asked, vaguely, picking at a loose thread at the bottom of her red shirt. Dodger glanced at Fagin.
"He's...a very clever gentleman, my dear." Fagin eventually replied, carefully. "A very clever man indeed. You'll meet 'im sooner or later, I imagine. Now-" Fagin's tone suddenly turned business-like. "It’s off to work with the lot of you!”

Fagin was wrong about one thing. Kat did not meet Bill Sikes or indeed meet him personally for several weeks or so.

She did, however, happen to catch a part of conversation that Fagin assumed was going unheard.

With a belly full (or, at least, half-full) with supper, Kat had been lying in her bed, eyes shut, willing herself to drift off properly to sleep. The boys and herself had been ordered to bed some time ago, but Kat simply could not feel herself drop off, and she could tell due to the rustling and mutters in the dark, she was not the only one who couldn't sleep.
Then footsteps sounded, muffled by the dust on the floor, and Fagin’s hoarse whisper skated through the air,

“…Twenty…thirty…forty…there! Take it.”
A distant but distinct sound of coins clinked together.

“You’d better not ‘ave sold me short, Fagin.” Replied a second voice, which pitched at a low growl. Kat’s eyes flickered open, and she slowly, silently, turned onto her side and peeked through a tiny gap in the moth-eaten curtain which hung partially over her bed.

“No, Bill.” Fagin’s voice replied, slick as oil. “I wouldn’t, Bill. You know that.”

Kat squinted in the dark, with only the moonlight, and could make out two figures standing by the door. One was obviously Fagin- there was no mistaking the wide-brimmed hat, or the long coat.
The second was tall; that much Kat could definitely make out, even if a top hat did wasn’t sat upon the owner’s head. The second figure held a short stick-like thing (Kat couldn’t make it out too well) and he also seemed to be wearing a long coat.

It was, without a doubt, the silhouette of Bill Sikes.

“Hmph.” Was all he said to Fagin’s smooth statement, but the cynicism in that grunt rang quite clear. Kat licked her lip nervously, then scuffled backwards a little, her blanket riding down to her midriff as she moved, and she hissed out of the corner of her mouth,

“Dodge. Dodger!”

“What?” Dodger hissed back, nearby. Kat looked over at Dodger, keeping her head down slightly.
“Dodger, who is that man?” Kat murmured, though the two men who stood by the door were paying no attention.
“That’s Bill Sikes.” Muttered Dodger back, confirming it. “He’s one of Fagin’s employers…and he’s one of the best thieves in all of London. ‘E can get in any house, easy. That’s what ‘e does for Fagin.”

“He’s scary.” Kat whispered, without thinking, and then found herself wondering if Dodger was going to tease her but, surprisingly, he didn’t.
“Yeah, everyone’s a bit scared of ‘im. Even Fagin is, a bit.”

Kat nodded, then realised that Dodger probably couldn’t see it. Then the footsteps started up again and the two quickly lay back down, ears straining.

“Nancy’ll be waitin’ for you.” Fagin was saying as the door creaked open, and Bill’s heavy footsteps thudded out onto the walkway. “Get you a nice supper, eh?”

Bill must have nodded, because the door closed again, almost silently, and Kat could understand how Bill Sikes got in and out of places undetected if he could near-silently shut that rickety old door.
Kat listened as Fagin scuffled away, and it occurred to her that she had not heard either Bill or Fagin enter the room. Then, as Fagin’s footsteps and mutterings stopped, Kat felt her eyelids droop, and she lay back down, lost in the silence, until she drifted off into a restless, uneasy sleep.

I know this chapter's a bit shorter then the last, but it's really more of a 'settling in' chapter. I'd also like to say thanks for the reviews for my previous chapter! Yay!