A/N: All five of these drabbles are in response to ckorkows' song fic challenge, and are based on the Gentlemen Bastards book series, by Scott Lynch. The first three are set during The Lies of Locke Lamora, and the next two during Red Seas Under Red Skies. For those of you who don't know the canon, think of it as Ocean's Eleven meets George R.R. Martin: a crime caper set somewhere between high and low fantasy, with the magic of the former and the grit of the latter. If you've read any Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, you're on generally the right track as well. Authors' notes at the end of each will identify the song.

The title of the collection is from a quote by Tom Waits.

I

There were few things more likely to dampen the mood than the whine of a twelve-year-old thieves' apprentice. "Why do I have to serve dinner again? We have enough from the last take. Let's hire someone to do it."

Even halfway across the room, busy counting out coins, and separating the gold from the dross, Locke Lamora caught the tone in Bug's voice. Given the dark looks both Sanza twins were shooting at him, Bug's complaint would have been hard to miss even if Locke hadn't been listening.

"Because, Bug, it's good for your moral education."

"Serving dinner?" Bug shook his head at the seemingly unlikely proposition.

Locke glanced up from the pile of money. "Jean cooked, didn't he? And you never hear him complaining about that."

"Nor us, garrista," said Calo.

"He's a good cook," agreed Galdo.

"See, Bug? Everyone here is in agreement, except for you," Locke observed. "And this is a democracy, anyway. So you're outvoted. Besides, it's only soup. Even you can handle soup."

Jean had been tending the soup pot all day, and had only stepped out for a moment to relieve himself on the cobblestones in the back alley. Even unattended, the soup's aroma had spread throughout the thieves' den.

Although he would never have admitted it to Bug or the twins, or maybe even to Jean, Locke Lamora was hungry. He had spent the entire day waiting out some shopkeeper over at Twosilver Green, a man whose acquaintance would be useful going forward with their latest scheme, but the man hadn't even arrived. Wasted effort always made him feel as if he was starving, although he could never be sure if it was physical hunger or the loss of the day's catch that had created the gnawing, dull ache.

Bug clinked the metal spoon against the soup pot, causing one of the Sanza twins to throw something the boy's way. Their apprentice's yelp was quickly drowned out by Jean's voice; Locke didn't need to glance up to know that their usual cook had returned.

"More gently, Bug. You'll scratch up the pot that way, and then the soup will cook unevenly."

Bug's voice was tight, very nearly offended. "Don't care."

"Yes, you do. Because if you scratch up the soup pot, I'll beat you with it until you can't see straight, and turn you out onto the streets."

The threat was idle. Locke could tell that instantly. However, Bug could not.

"No, you wouldn't, Jean! Locke wouldn't let you! Isn't that right, Locke?"

Locke shrugged, uncaring. "Might also be good for your moral education."

He could hear Jean chuckle, low and deep, and as Locke turned back to sorting out their riches from the day, Bug quieted down, letting Jean teach him how to ladle soup into bowls without spilling half of it. Maybe one day the boy would graduate from soup-stirrer to one of the Right People, a proper thief and a true Gentleman Bastard. Locke Lamora could only hope it would happen.

Song: "Watching You," by Rodney Atkins.