“Your lodgings not to your likin’?” he asked. Isaiah begged at his feet.
“They’re lovely,” I said. “But I do like to walk.”
“Alone, apparently.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “I did want to stay with the boy, but he’s awfully skittish. Kept insisting we return.”
Patrick hissed something through his teeth, then took a flask from his waistcoat and unscrewed the top. He seemed irritable. Heated. It amused me, though I couldn’t explain why. “Seems a little early for liquor.”
“No it fuckin’ ain’t,” he murmured, and brought the flask to his lips. Patrick had a long swig, then took his time stashing it away. All the while, he stared at me with a puzzling expression. It was not a friendly one.
He clicked his tongue, then said, “Well, shall I throw you over my shoulder and drag you back? I’ll confess, it’s
