A room with a view

How he had come to this place and exactly what sort of place it was, Fingers couldn't say. It was strange and wondrous and a little frightening all at once. And he wanted nothing better than to explore it.

He'd come into this room through a window, which someone had left open despite the rain. The steady downpour had given him a partial cleaning, washing away some of the grime from his face anyway, but now he was soaked to the skin and shivering. At least the room he found himself in had a fireplace, in which some thoughtful soul had stoked a roaring fire.

Seeing no one else around - the door to the room was mostly closed, in fact - Fingers decided he was safe from discovery. So, after smoothing some dripping-wet curls from his face, he began wriggling out of his soaked slops. He was not one to pass up this sort of prime opportunity!

This Crown place was probably the nicest building Davy had ever set foot in; it was fitted out all rich and polished, like what he imagined gentlemen lived in. And it was so big that he could go practically anywhere as long as he was careful. He'd been sneaking about through the different empty rooms and corridors and hadn't been seen once.

He didn't want to overload himself too much and be seen to bulge by anyone, but he couldn't keep his fingers still. Whatever was small enough to conceal in his jacket, he had stowed away in there; strange, neat little things that he'd never seen the likes of before. The prize he liked best was a smooth black rectangular sort of thing that had little buttons on the top of it, made out of some unfamiliar material. It wasn't bone, or wood, or metal, or ceramic. It had a little door on the back, too, that opened up to show two cylinders that were made out of metal, all stuck in a little recess with springs on the edges. It was very strange, but he bet that he could find someone to buy it.

Davy peered around the next door and then stopped and meant to reverse his direction. There was someone there already, only a kid a bit younger than he was, skinning out of dripping clothes in front of the fire. He could set up a shout and give Davy away.

There wasn't anything that looked like it was meant to hang wet clothes from. Fingers gave the area around the fireplace a thorough study before deciding he was best serve to simply lay out his wet things on the floor. His shirt first, then his trousers. He pulled off his neckcloth last, picking apart the knot and unrolling it so it could dry too.

It felt a little odd to be completely unclothed, but the warmth from the fire and the soft thickness of the carpet went a long way to convincing him it was all right. Besides. It wasn't like anyone was likely to come wandering in to tell him off for it!

Fingers ran his hands back through his hair, or tried to, and whistled to himself as he turned away to survey the room more closely. That was when he noticed the face in the doorway. Oh. Oh. His first reaction was to leap for the overstuffed chair sitting facing the fireplace.

Davy'd had to move slowly, so he didn't make too much noise, but when he'd been about to go around the other way the kid spotted him. And Davy didn't really have much other choice then. He might yell. He slipped quickly in the door and shut it behind him with a click. Meanwhile the other boy had dived behind the chair and was hiding behind it.

He glanced at the clothes the lad had laid out. They looked like...sailor's slops?

No way this boy belonged here any more than he did. Not a chance. Davy looked up, and towards the window that was still hanging open, and he grinned. "Ye broke in here div ye?"

"What'f I did?" Fingers asked warily, peeking over the top of the chair. He didn't know this boy and therefore he was in a very awkward position. By rights, he should not be in here. Certainly not in his present state of undress. What if this was some officer's servant?

"Divvent fash yerself ower i', kiddar," Davy answered. "Ah'm no' gan te turn ye in, leik." He was curious, now, about what this boy was doing here, and his attention had been diverted from his own exploration. "Whyn't ye gan an' ge' a towel frem the netty?"

He could only stare over the top of the chair at the other boy. What was he saying?

"Who're you?"

"Davy Weaver," Davy answered companionably. "An' whee's ye then?"

"Fingers," the boy supplied.

"Wha' kind of nyem is Fingers?" Davy scoffed.

What kind of... Fingers frowned. "S'my name!"

"Weor did ye ge' a nyem leik Fingers then?" Davy inquired, still inclined to amusement at the name. "An' Fingers wha'?"

"I'nno. Me mum I s'pose." It was the only thing he rightly remembered ever being called. "Marine Si'ty said me other name's Smith."

"Pleasure to meet ye then, Fingers Smith," Davy said with exaggerated solemnity, broken a little by the grin that twitched at the corner of his mouth. What a name. Fingers Smith - Fingersmith! The word meant 'thief' most places.

"Theor's a towel i' the netty," he said again, pointing to the door that led to the bathroom, "if ye want te ge' yerself dry up agyen."

"An' you," Fingers replied, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of Davy's other comments. He recognised the word 'towel' but that was about all. At least the other boy had the decency to point toward another door, which helped somewhat.

He hopped down off the armchair and headed for the door, one hand coming up automatically to scratch at his head. It seemed getting wet had aggravated the usually-passive itching.

Terry was wandering around this strange tavern-looking place when a nearby door opened. He shrank back, thinking he was going to be in trouble for even being here, and then saw that the person who had opened the door was none other than Fingers, from Terpsy. Well. If that didn't beat all.

"What're you doin' here, Fingers?" he asked with a grin.

The unexpected hailing made him jump. "Button!" Fingers burst out, surprised to another Terpsichore boy here. "Lookin' ferra towel or summat. Whattabout you?"

Towel? Terry shrugged. "I ain't lookin' f'r a towel if that's what you's askin'," he said. "Dunno where you'd find one, neither, sorry."

Well, maybe that boy Davy was only half-right. Still... Fingers pointed at the door he'd been directed to. "Fella said there's towels in there," he remarked, aware that he was still dripping water somewhat, despite having dried a little in front of the fire. Hopefully that boy Davy didn't take it into his head to steal Fingers' clothes.

"Want me to go 'n' look?" Terry offered, suddenly aware that Fingers was dripping water all over the place. "Where you bin, anyhow? You look like you gone overboard!"

"Jes' inn'ar, the fella said. Prolly an officer's cabin or summat like!" Fingers grinned. "I was outside, weren't I? Hadda get here somehows."

"Awrigh'," Terry said, and tapped nervously on the door. There was no answer and he shrugged, gingerly pushing the door open. "Coo!" It was a clean, white-tiled room with towels piled up on a basket in the corner. He slipped in and grabbed one before slipping back out, hoping nobody would notice there was one less than there should have been.

"'Ere you go," he said, shoving the huge fluffy thing into Fingers' arms.

Wow. Fingers' eyes widened when Button returned with a big, white, fluffy something. That was a towel? Even more amazing than it being big white and fluffy was that it was big white fluffy and soft. He wasted no time wrapping it around himself and laughed delightedly when it went around him twice.

"Officers get the best bits," he observed cheerfully.

"Don' they jist," Terry replied. It was a huge towel and so fluffy - and Terry didn't think he'd seen anything quite as white as that before. "Think I like this place. Whatever sort of place it is!"

Davy put his head around the corner when he heard another boy's voice, investigating the newcomer. It was just another lad their age, though, not anyone threatening. And he looked like he wasn't supposed to be here either. "Whee's ye?" Davy asked Button. "Ye knaas each ither?"

He pointed at the towel that Fingers had wrapped around him. "Divnae Ah telt ye? I's summat leik, isnae i'?"