Not a Dog's Daughter

Funny, Nancy didn't recall falling asleep in some old warehouse last night, though all things -- like the lingering taste of liquor in her mouth -- considered she supposed it might not be all that strange, since she didn't actually recall leaving the Three Cripples last night. Well, it wasn't a bad place to live; whoever it was that actually dossed down in here had used a bunch of old crates, a mattress, and some bedding to build up a sort of sleeping alcove that was somewhat incongruously curtained off with a bright floral-print sheet.

She ought to probably get out of here before the actual inhabitant showed up, and possibly track down Fagin to see about any jobs he might have for her today. Speaking of jobs, Bill ought to be home from his latest one soon, so she really should go.

. . . not before checking under the mattress and making off with the small stash of strange-looking money there, though.

[OOC: And Éponine is Nancy from the musical version of Oliver! for the weekend. Oh look, another petty criminal with alcoholic tendencies, dubious virtue, and an unhealthy level of attachment to a guy who isn't worth it, whose onstage death has traumatized me since I was a kid -- I swear, Samantha Barks, ILU but play a different character type next please I am begging you I actually can't handle any more of this. Open if you want to run into her on the way out, though subject to SP for the next few hours.

Also I'd appreciate it if mention of the cash stashed under the mattress is NFB, please. :)]