Random slavers and desperate men only have so much money. The first time Mikasa tried to pickpocket, her target chased her into a dark alleyway. It was only luck that she had stolen his pocket knife instead of his wallet. The contents of the wallet barely covered a meal. She won't have Armin and Eren starving, not under her watch. Mikasa took another glance at the cooling corpse on the ground. She had chosen this target because his shuffling walk and the bags under his eyes. Now the girl could see the gaunt cheeks and the fraying hems on his clothes. Mikasa wouldn't make this mistake again; she'd pick a better target next time. Double checking to see if there were bloodstains on her (there were none) and tucking her ever-present scarf out of way (so it wouldn't get dirty), Mikasa stepped out onto the streets. Several houses away and partially hidden in the corner, a drunken man had passed out. He seemed like an easy target.
Keeping track of their budgets seemed harder as of late. Between Eren's large purchases for his grandfather's medicine, the increasingly cold weather, and the rent, Armin knew that his grandfather's pay check and Mikasa's bag of groceries wouldn't cover heating. For once, the land lady's advice did come in handy. The older sisters next door had all sorts of tips to keep the budget. (The brothel was classier than the ones a couple of streets down, the workers just a little more protected. That didn't stop the owner from being a pig though.) Armin did remember a few things from a forbidden book he read once. (Forbidden as in his parents and grandfather took it away from him, not because it was heretical.) It was something about clothes or pretending to be a someone else. There was also something about dancing around a pole. Armin didn't understand the meaning; his parents hadn't explained it to him and there was no time to ask his grandfather.
There was a noticeably positive change in their next interaction. While his landlady had tea and biscuits with nice sisters' boss, Armin got more than just a peek at the brothel's ledgers and suggesting a few pointed questions to ask those clients. There were a few familiar and notable names in the book. Imitating the handwriting as best as he could, Armin changed the placements around a couple of names. Usually Armin would offer to help with Eren's chores, but he needs all the sleep he can get. He's not going to be getting a lot of sleep that night.
When Mikasa, Armin and Grandpa Arlert wasn't looking, a permanent scowl rested on Eren's face. The landlady had increased the month's rent yet again, and had subtly hinted 'potential' professions for Mikasa. This time, she hadn't left out him and Armin either. Eren was quite sure that if it wasn't for the fact that they had dubious connections to the Garrison (Hannes must be still alive, right?), Grandpa Arlert would be one of the corpses that frequently popped up in the red light district two streets over and the three of them would be sold off.
It was probably a good thing that Mikasa had picked up a pocket knife somewhere. The first major argument since the bread incident was over who keeps the knife. (Armin kept it, but Mikasa came home the next day with a dagger the size of Eren's forearm and a sheath to go along with it.) Eren was more useful around the house, so the landlady had the tendency to make him do housework and home repair. When he wasn't, Eren found himself bargaining at the apothecaries with Mikasa (who had a tendency to disappear every once in a while, maybe it was that girl thing his dad was talking about?) or foraging with a sleepy Armin in the nearby forest. It was easier for him in the long run, especially since he gets the chance to subtly add opiates into the land lady's stew. (It wasn't like the land lady would be kind enough to feed them...) Sometimes, she would even bring some around to the boss next door. Eren's being told to cook a lot lately... maybe he should up the dose, the landlady might be in a good mood for once and stop demanding the next month's rent in advance.
Grandpa Arlert found a job in Rose's landfills. It was a tiring and thankless job, and the pay barely covered the rent. These days, he barely had enough time to think about his grandson and his two friends. The landlady seemed to get grumpier and grumpier every time he sees her. He made a mental note to talk to his three young charges about toning down their behaviour. (That never happened.)
