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The laborers cut work around sun-drop moon-up (~6pm; actually 5+pm by contract), and start lining up at the long ramp to get frisked and groped by the watchchumps one last time before fugging off for dindins.
You're at the perimeter of the two Church blocks around this time, watching from the tall grass.
The workchumps, bricklayers, carpenters, all that sort, knock off a little earlier than the laborers at the Pit, with a shorter, more cursory frisk. Workchumps get a lil more respect and a lil less work; 'at's why the reg'lar chumps working in the dust and sun of the Pit finna filch lewts, you guess: fair is in the pockitses of the be-lewter. Or something. Bah, who cares bout demz. <span class="mu-g">YOU</span>'re SMARTZ, and LUCKERZ, and long rich and gone wiv da <span class="mu-b">JACKPOT</span>!! Just one night's werk, after they've been digging munfs and munfs! And they'll be digging munfs more still, going by the size of the rubble hill. Bcuz <span class="mu-g">YOUZ</span> iz jez BEZT, an' ever'one else before and after you iz flat CHUMPZ, nyerrr!
When the workchumps are all out of the Church blocks, the watchboss does one last sweep personally then locks up. Fat use that is, when the windows arent in. Even a Humie can hup and get in from the ground floor windows, if he cuts a biggy hole in the window-sheeting. Fuggen DUM.
You break into Ͳ block per normal, creeping inna shadows towards the chantry and the Big Sissy's rooms.
You're earlier than the previous days, and you hear movements in the {C U R A} room, the parrish setter. There's lamplight in there; fireplace unlit.
Locating the footsteps as a single person not close to the door, you risk an eyefull through the keyhole.
Yup: Sissy's in. Sorting out a small pile today, big on stachoos and crocks; the Found pile's small, half metal gubbins (looks like pigiron), buncha Whitey cloffs. Nothing BIG so far, hheh.
He's got a few books out and open on his desk, with piccys in, and paper bits marking out places between pages. He consults the books from time to time, with the gubbin of interest in the crook of his bad hand (right; thumb, fore and middle finger missing), following first the index in front of the books, then the entry in the meats of it with his poitfingie (forefinger). He's not good at dis.
You pad off into the chantry, where you know he will be later in the evening, and start looking for some cubby to hide in where you can watch and listen to him.
The top of the altar's no good. There's brass pots there, but it's a bit squeezy even if you chuck the flowers, and it might be sneezy to be this close to the incense if he burns any.
There's a cupboard kind of fing under the altar, mostly empty; you can creep all the way to da back and wait, den creep up to eavesdrop later. But there's no ready out from in dere, if he finds your tracks or smells you.
The narrow sidle space behind the alter...
Nerrrh.
You climb all the way up the back of the altar and get on the ceiling beams instead.
