*Sterling*
As my coach rumbles toward the outskirts of Blackrock city, I know it’s pointless to prolong my time with her. Her thoughts are not on me. They are on the young lad stretched out on the bench, the one whose head is in her lap while she slowly combs her fingers through his dirty hair. The boy is like a mongrel pup, filthy and ill cared for. He’s stuffed himself with so much food that he’s brought a good deal of it back up on the way to the coach. I want to believe he’s just a greedy little bastard, but I suspect he’s quite simply starving. His arms are little more than sticks. I wouldn’t have thought he could have carried my ink blotter out of the residence, but my pockets tell a different story.
“It was very kind of you not to have him arrested,” Frannie says quietly.
To en
