„You...owe him money?“ Mark's shoulders visibly relaxed. Even the voice subsided further.
„So he's not coming back.“ Lana didn't seem to be buying it. „And you'll pay us for it.“

Emilia simply looked back to the house, making sure the kids were well and truly gone.

A healthy amount of suspicion in all three pairs of eyes.

„We don't...“ Mark started, but Emilia pulled on his hand to shush him.
„Fixing the wall is gonna cost a fortune.“ Smaller smile. „Kids like ceilingpie now, but give 'em three weeks and they'll be sick from it.“
„Our boy could use it too.“ Lana chimed in.

Mark knew he wasn't winning this one, so he just nodded.

„No strings?“

Trevor eyed the riderless horse carefully. Was it in such a rush to carry a burden again? Knew a lot of men like that. Most were miserable.
 
Was the fucking hoofer trying to pet itself against his leg? Trevor wasn't fluent in horse, but he did his best to pat the thing between the ears. Gently, of course. Because bit could only stop so much before it was his ass that got bitten.

Before Laric, the briefest hint of concern flashed, before it settled into weak smiles.

„No more plaster.“

Trevor's stomach complained in the way empty things often did. Downright ungrateful – and to think he'd spent so much ale on pacifying the thing. Some organs were straight up ungrateful.

„We stayin' for dinner?“

Expected Laric to give him some spiel about how they shouldn't take from the poor people. But, well... Trevor was poor people.
 
Look told him plenty. Guy still had to try – because the next one was unlikely to end this well. But he nodded, pat on the horse's side. Ready to go.

Come to think of it...

„What do you think of Benny?“ The animal didn't appear impressed. Trevor thought it was great – real buddylike. And if they were every attending formal functions, he could dress it up to Benedict or somesuch. Didn't even need a last name, Benedict alone sounded pompous enough. Like it had land, and proper papers.

So he let the horse blink at him like unpaid taxes.

„Come on then, Blondie.“

Hoped it wouldn't rain. But hope was a mug's game.
 
„Hear that, Benny? You got a good one.“ A girl, huh? Never figured he was blind enough to miss something size of a horsedick...but eyes did get shiter with age.

Looked to the sky when Laric spoke. Sure would've been nice if one of the myriad scars told him when the weather would change. But he had nothing convenient like an enshrouded weathervane knee – just a bunch of bumps and scrapes in the language of almost.

Considered getting them tattooed here and there, make 'em prettier – but why would anyone want to get hit in the same place twice?

„Sure... I could eat.“ Wasn't exactly food he was hungry for. Just to be away from the place. Work had been done here – any further influence would mess with the peace these people had already won.

And if they could work in a delay...well, that'd be wonderful too.
 
Where indeed?

He'd long since given up on explaining that he didn't actually know where to go, and that he'd only be certain of the location once they'd arrived. For now this road was right. And that was good enough – more knowledge wasn't always a good thing.

„We're going the right way.“

Trevor wasn't exactly ungrateful when the silence got filled. Whether by drink, walk or talk. Anything was better than the empty.

Was probably his turn to say more, when his eyes caught movement further ahead. Lack of it too. Man and woman hunched by a cart pulled just shy of road's edge. Wheel cracked, and smeared in wet mud, darker than the road. A child could be heard crying as they approached. Took a while to see the lil' guy – behind the woman's skirts.

He'd seen this scene before. But wondered what Laric would make of it.

„Good Sirs!“ Came the guy's voice. „Would you mind sparing some coin? We need just reach the next town to sell our wares.“ Looked at them both at first. But Trevor didn't pass muster.

Heads quickly swiveled to Laric alone.

„Please, we've been here near two days. Think of the little one!“ dirt on his boots was dry and of the road.

Kid stopped crying.
 
Wasn't surprised that Laric had picked up on the scam. The mud was wrong, the people were too clean and not desperate enough. The little fucker forgot to cry once his lines were done. Remembered the last time he pulled it, years back – and liked to think he'd have done better. No one would pay him to be cute at this age, but surely he could be the upset merchant or the grieving wife... or somethin'.

But that wasn't the interesting part. Wanted to know how Laric would handle it. One could learn lot about a man just by not interrupting.

Trevor scratched Benny's mane more carefully now. Cause apparently she was a weaver – and you didn't fuck with weavers.

To their credit, the three hadn't given up.

„Please – it's been days, and no one's even stopped.“ The woman called out.
„Perhaps we could give you something for the coin?“ The guy pointed over to the sparse load inside the cart. The load covered just enough to make it guesswork.

Trevor caught a casual elbow to the lil' jit's shoulder.

„Huuungry.“ Kid remembered.
 
Laric didn't bite. Pulled the line wider instead. Trevor'd known men who could salvage a con from the swish and bob of an escaping fish...but these people weren't it. Didn't have the right words. Wondered why they even tried, being so shit at it.

That gave him pause.

Fished out a piece of bread he'd carried since Jerry's folk gave him a change of clothes. Thing was so hard, even the mold passed on it. Still was something. Threw it weakly at the three.

„Try this.“

Hit the little fucker right in the nose. Doubted he could repeat that throw on his best day.

„I wouldn't run this in Havenby. They've been... they won't have the patience.“

Didn't stick around to check if the kid would eat. Turned his back and inched the horse after the other rider. Would've been real funny if he got knifed by people who couldn't even pull off a wheelcon.

Laric was who he was. And he wasn't in the business of fixing people.

As long as they left everything just a little less shit than they found it – he could live with that.
 
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