Charles Dawkins
Dodger was proud. He looked at the new recruit with curious interest as the ragged boy surveyed his new surroundings.
The door swung open as Master Charley Bates strutted into the small house the gang of pickpockets were currently residing in. Dodger smiled as he thought of his and Charley's secret relationship. Turning to the sausages he was cooking for himself and the other boys, he absent-mindedly listened to the conversation the other two boys had just initiated.
"'Ello. I haven't seen your face 'round 'ere before. You new?"
"Yes. My name is Oliver. Oliver Twist."
"Nice to meet you Oliver! I'm Charles, Charles Dawkins. Nonetheless, you can call me Charley!"
Dodger froze. He could practically feel the vibrations of Charley's over-excited hand shake move through the floor. What is he playin' at? He thought. Dawkins? That ain't his surname. Must be a mistake…
"Oh! That's an exquisite ring you're wearing Mister Dawkins."
"Why thank-you Oliver! It's rather new; nevertheless I am already quite attached to it. Don't you just adore the metal work?"
… Hang on. Ring? Dawkins?... Dodger snapped out of his thoughts and gave a somewhat meaningful glare at Charley who had extended his arm to Oliver, showing off a rather striking ring on… his left ring finger.
"Charley!" He barked. "We (however much you think we are) are not married! Where'd you get that ring!?" Charley wasn't listening. "Charley!"
"I… I… I found it?"
"You stole it didn't you!? You cheeky prig! I didn't give it to you. Therefore, it does not count! Charley? Are you listening to me?"
However, it was quite clear that Charley was not listening to him, as he wandered over to the burning sausages humming the wedding march tune quietly under his breath.
