Posted using PostyBirb",
"writing": "\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[b]Denver, CO, January 19th[/b]\n\n\n\nThomas stared at the screen as the announcement that the library was closing sounded.\n\nHe didn’t move.\n\nHe had a few minutes before anyone did the rounds to ensure everyone had left, and he wanted to stay in the warmth for as long as he could get away with it. Just the idea of stepping outside had him shivering.\n\nWhere the fuck was he expected to sleep? It wasn’t like he could burn the little money he had on a hotel, even a motel.\n\nWhy was there a Lewiston at Steel Link? And one in a position of authority, from the way he’d talked to that giant of an otter. Authority had to mean there was an understanding between the two families. You didn’t put someone you didn’t trust in that kind of position.\n\nHad they reconciled? \n\nCouldn’t they have waited until Thomas didn’t need help anymore?\n\nIt wasn’t a coincidence, of that, Thomas was certain. He didn’t believe in them anymore. Maybe the reconciliation was even because of him. Madoc had sounded like that Raphael was adamant about getting Thomas.\n\nAnd couldn’t Grant’s phone have lasted long enough for Jules to tell him who Thomas was expected to meet for help?\n\nOkay, so that meant he needed to make his way to San Francisco because the backup plan was definitely in effect now.\n\nThe bus was out; because the cheapest ticket was twice what he had. The weather made walking or hitchhiking highly problematic. If he had any idea how he’d teleported himself and Grant to the grotto from Wyoming, he’d do that, but that would leave him with the problem of not having someone to fuck him in San Francisco and dying. Grant had been clear about that. Thomas had nearly died from teleporting them, and fucking him was how he’s survived.\n\nYay for being powered by sex.\n\nMaybe he could teleport onto a bus going to San Francisco? It wasn’t like there would be many people on it. But the windows on the bus he’d taken had been tinted, and, as far as he remembered, so had all those he’d walked by leaving the terminal. Even if he found one without tinted windows, all he’d be able to see was the ceiling, and that meant a drop on appearing, and attracting the attention of anyone in it, or landing on someone. He wouldn’t be able to tell where anyone was.\n\nMaybe hang out at a charging station south of the city and hope to come across a good samaritan? \n\nWasn’t that relying a little too much on luck? And wasn’t luck just another word for coincidence, in which he no longer believed?\n\nSomeone cleared her through.\n\nThe older boar who had walked by the public computers every half hour was looking at him.\n\n“Just a minute,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen, but mind skidding around for a solution.\n\n“We are closing, young man,” she said in a calm voice.\n\n“I just—”\n\n“We are closing.” The tone of her voice now had a hint of motherly finality added to the calmness.\n\n“Fine,” Thomas mumbled, shouldering his backpack. Had the cold weather caused compassion to shrivel into nothingness?\n\nHe tightened his overcoat as he stepped outside, which did little against the cold.\n\nIt was dark.\n\nOf course, it was dark. It was January, and he’d stayed inside until they closed. He was frozen before the end of the block and stepped into the convenience store for the heat. The smell of cooking food from the deli corner reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything all day. The prices on the display told him he’d continue going hungry.\n\nLodging was a better use of his money right now. Not that he wanted to spend it on even that. His best course of action was to come up with a way to make some money and pay for a bus ticket. That would be easier if he didn’t squander the little he had.\n\nHe stepped to the window and gazed outside.\n\nCould he perform sex for money?\n\nHe snorted. He had the performing part down without a problem. But how did he go about offering himself to strangers and asking to be paid? It was called the oldest industry in the world, not the easiest to get into.\n\nHe noticed he stood next to a display of packaged dried sausages. Before his mind could go into the gutter, his stomach rumbled.\n\nHe was right here, looking outside. If he grabbed a handful and teleported, the clerk wouldn’t be able to do anything, but the camera would… nope. That was pointed at the alcohol fridge.\n\nSo he could—\n\nWas the clerk eyeing him intently? Maybe he was checking Thomas out? Right, because that was how his luck ran these days.\n\nHe left as casually as he could.\n\nDid stores like this one call each other to report suspicious people? If one of them caught him teleporting on camera, how long until the government was after him, too?\n\nWhat was he thinking? If he was going to risk being hunted down by the government, it shouldn’t be over stealing a handful of dried meat sticks. No, he had to go big or go home.\n\nHe was looking around for… a bank, he realized, when what he was considering hit him.\n\nRob a bank?\n\nWhat the fuck was wrong with him?\n\nTaking from his grandfather was more borrowing than stealing. Sure, he hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t left an IOU, but once he explained, Magnus would understand.\n\nA bank?\n\nWhat were the odds that once all of this was done and he returned the money, because he would, they’d understand and forgive him?\n\nDid he think he was in some family movie?\n\nHe’d heard the line about power corrupting, but he’d always thought it was a plot device. Now here he was, contemplating robbing a bank after what? Not even a week on his own? Half that with some level of handle on his teleportation.\n\nAnd he was forgetting the biggest problem with his plan. He’d only teleported where he could see, and when he managed a place that was far, he’d needed to be fucked for a recharge.\n\nFuck. Why hadn’t he searched for bathhouses when he had access to a computer? How was he going to recharge? Grant had told him he needed the sex. He looked at the other pedestrians. Would one of them point him in the right direction if he asked?\n\nHe was so not cut out for this.\n\nHe found a nook out of the building wind and huddled.\n\nHe couldn’t do this. He had no idea where to sleep so he wouldn’t freeze, no idea where he could get food, or sex. It had all been Grant. Thomas sucked at surviving on his own.\n\nThe wind shifted and got under the overcoat, causing his teeth to chatter audibly. That did it. He was using the money he had for a motel room and in the morning he was messaging his parents so they could arrange to get him home. If someone watched that, then they were welcome to take him. Right now, he’d rather deal with this Raphael than be out here, lost and miserable.\n\nIt wasn’t a great plan—were plans to surrender ever great—but it was a plan. Knowing what he intended to do made him feel better and that let him push out of the nook and brave the cold.\n\nThe first thing to take care of was food, but he couldn’t spend too much on that until he knew how much a motel room cost. He could hit a fast-food place and go for their cheap menu… but would he be able to resist adding anything to that? That was the point of them, after all, getting him in there for the cheap stuff and getting him to spend more on everything else around it.\n\nHe spotted the food truck under the street lamp and noticed the lineup. Were food trucks cheap? The line-up would indicate it was good, wouldn’t it? But it also meant higher demand, which would result in higher prices.\n\nHis stomach grumbled a protest at the procrastination. It wouldn’t cost him anything to see what the prices were. If they weren’t reasonable, he’d only be in the position he was right now.\n\nThe food advertised was Polish, and the prices were more reasonable than he expected, so he got into the line, taking his backpack off and holding it before him. He didn’t protest when people huddled around him as that meant more heat, but he kept a hand on the overcoat’s pocket where he kept his wallet.\n\nHe could see the pictures on the side of the truck when he was shoved hard enough he ended up on his ass.\n\n“Asshole!” he yelled at the runner and regretted the outburst. He got to his feet, pick up the backpack, and put his hand back on the pocket… which no longer had the bulge his wallet had caused. He put his hand in the pocket to check, then he was looking at the runner in the distance, his heart sinking and then rising with his anger.\n\n“Son of a bitch!”\n\nHe took off after him, putting the pack on.\n\nHe literally couldn’t afford to be robbed.\n\nThe thief had distance over Thomas, but Thomas has one advantage, and it was a good one. As soon as he stepped out of the light of a post, he teleported three ahead. This would be simple, since the sidewalk was deserted. He did it again, and once more, as the thief, still a block away, turned between buildings.\n\nThomas teleported the distance and nearly slipped off his feet as he tried to do the ninety-degree turn.\n\nThat had let the thief put distance between them in the alley, but that was easy to fix. Thomas threw himself in the thief’s direction and teleported.\n\nWhat had Grant said about trying something new under combat situations?\n\nRight.\n\nBad idea.\n\nThomas appeared high and only clipped the thief’s shoulder before crashing down hard. He pushed himself up despite the screaming pain in his shoulder.\n\n“That’s my wallet,” he said through gritted teeth. “Give it back.” All Thomas could tell about the thief, with it being so dark, was that he was lanky.\n\n“’Fraid you’re mistaken, mate.”\n\n“I’ve had a really bad couple of days,” Thomas growled. “You really don’t want to piss me off.”\n\n“Is that so?” The thief sounded so cocky. Thomas needed to put him in his place. “’Fraid your day ain’t gonna get any better, mate.”\n\nThe punch blindsided Thomas as he was about to throw himself at the thief, and he was on the ground again, this time with his head ringing. He pushed himself to all four, but something hit him in the stomach and he no longer had the strength to move.\n\n“Don’t bother,” the thief said as someone pulled on his overcoat. “Just take the pack.” Hands rummaged through his pockets. “You shoulda left it. The night woulda’ve gone better, mate. But I’ma gonna be nice and leave you this expensive-looking overcoat. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for you freezing to death, would I? Enjoy Denver, mate.”\n\nThomas tried to curse them. Yell, order them to return their things. He even tried to stand, but all he got out of that was his consciousness leaving him too.\n\n* * * * *\n\n[b]Denver, CO, January 19th[/b]\n\n\n\nThomas woke to a hand on his neck and he shoved the thief away with a yell, then groaned in pain as his stomach protested the motion.\n\n“Careful there, friend,” the thief said.\n\n“I’m not your friend,” Thomas snapped and glared… it wasn’t the thief. He was too wide. He didn’t think the other one, the burly one, would bother talking. “Sorry.”\n\n“I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to give those two something to remember me by.” The man shook a cloth-covered fist in the direction the thief and his accomplice had left. Thomas realized that some of his man’s mass was because he wore many jackets one over the other.\n\n“You saw?” Maybe he knew them and could help him get his stuff back.\n\n“I was rounding the corner as they left you.” The man searched through the snow and smiled as he picked up something.\n\n“No.” No-no-no. The thief had gone through his pockets. Thomas reached in, hoping they’d missed the envelope. It wasn’t there. His backup plan was gone.\n\n“What’s wrong?” the man asked and Thomas crawled away on seeing the stone he held. He looked at what he was holding. “Oh, that’s for that bump on the side of your head. The cold’s going to reduce the swelling. Winter’s good about providing cold things, you know.”\n\nThomas took it. The stone was the size of a rounded egg, smooth, with its sides rounded. It was cold enough that it stung through his fur before soothing the pain.\n\n“I’m Donal,” the man said, offering his hand. “Donal Hines. Now. What’s wrong?”\n\nThomas shook a hand that had to be covered by three pairs of gloves. “Thomas. I’d need all night to tell you.”\n\n“Then how about you keep it to that wail?” He pulled a thermos from within one of the layers.\n\n“That’s just the last straw on an already broken back,” Thomas sighed. “I had an envelope with vital information on it.”\n\n“Oh, right!” Donal handed him the thermos. “Serve yourself. It’s tea. I hope you like tea. I can’t stand coffee.” He searched through the layers.\n\nThomas unscrewed the cap.\n\nExcept for being outside, instead of a truck, this felt eerily familiar. He paused before pouring tea into the cap. “I can’t pay you back for this.”\n\n“No surprise there,” Donal replied. “There you are. I swear I’d put you in the other pocket.” He offered Thomas an envelope. “That’s why I was running after you. It’s quite the pair of legs you have.”\n\nThomas stared in disbelief. In the near-total dark, it looked suspiciously like the one Grant had given him.\n\nHis backup plan.\n\n“Where did you get that?” he asked cautiously.\n\n“It fell out of your coat when you ran by me.”\n\nThomas raised an eyebrow. “And you chased me to return it?”\n\nDonal shrugged. “Call it doing a good turn ahead. Maybe, in spite of what just happened to you, my kind act will make it more likely you’ll help someone in need when you come across them. It’s a harsh world we live in. I try to smooth its edges when I can.”\n\nThomas put the cap on the thermos and took the envelope. What he’d described sounded a lot like he thought of himself as a good Samaritan. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”\n\n“I’m just glad I could help.” He took the thermos and filled the cap as Thomas put the envelope away. \n\nThomas took the offered cap and the heat radiating from it, as he held it in both hands, was almost painful.\n\n“Do you have someplace to go?”\n\nHome, he wanted to say, but now, he wasn’t sure he’d even make it the night. He shook his head.\n\n“That’s what I thought,” Donal said with a nod. “You have the look of the lost on you. How about I help you some more?”\n\nThomas finished the slow swallow he’d started, then looked a Donal over the cap. “You brought me back my envelope, and now you’re going to help me again?” He couldn’t help the bitterness that followed. “That’s awfully convenient.”\n\nDonal laughed. “Convenient would be some sugar daddy stopping at the end of the alley and offering to take care of you for the rest of your life in exchange for a piece of that sweet ass of yours.” He looked up and peered down the alleyway. Thomas hesitated, then cautiously looked over his shoulder.\n\n“Nope,” the man said. “Not showing up. Think of me as the next best thing. What I have going for me is that I know these streets and alleys and, more importantly, I know where the warm places are. What do you say?”\n\nThomas took another long swallow of tea. “You aren’t going to make it conditional on getting some of my ass?”\n\nDonal smiled. “I’m not in the habit of making my help conditional on anything.”\n\nThomas handed him the empty cap. “What if I ask really nicely?”\n\nThe man stared at him, then burst out laughing.",
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Denver, CO, January 19th
Thomas stared at the screen as the announcement that the library was closing sounded.
He didn’t move.
He had a few minutes before anyone did the rounds to ensure everyone had left, and he wanted to stay in the warmth for as long as he could get away with it. Just the idea of stepping outside had him shivering.
Where the fuck was he expected to sleep? It wasn’t like he could burn the little money he had on a hotel, even a motel.
Why was there a Lewiston at Steel Link? And one in a position of authority, from the way he’d talked to that giant of an otter. Authority had to mean there was an understanding between the two families. You didn’t put someone you didn’t trust in that kind of position.
Had they reconciled?
Couldn’t they have waited until Thomas didn’t need help anymore?
It wasn’t a coincidence, of that, Thomas was certain. He didn’t believe in them anymore. Maybe the reconciliation was even because of him. Madoc had sounded like that Raphael was adamant about getting Thomas.
And couldn’t Grant’s phone have lasted long enough for Jules to tell him who Thomas was expected to meet for help?
Okay, so that meant he needed to make his way to San Francisco because the backup plan was definitely in effect now.
The bus was out; because the cheapest ticket was twice what he had. The weather made walking or hitchhiking highly problematic. If he had any idea how he’d teleported himself and Grant to the grotto from Wyoming, he’d do that, but that would leave him with the problem of not having someone to fuck him in San Francisco and dying. Grant had been clear about that. Thomas had nearly died from teleporting them, and fucking him was how he’s survived.
Yay for being powered by sex.
Maybe he could teleport onto a bus going to San Francisco? It wasn’t like there would be many people on it. But the windows on the bus he’d taken had been tinted, and, as far as he remembered, so had all those he’d walked by leaving the terminal. Even if he found one without tinted windows, all he’d be able to see was the ceiling, and that meant a drop on appearing, and attracting the attention of anyone in it, or landing on someone. He wouldn’t be able to tell where anyone was.
Maybe hang out at a charging station south of the city and hope to come across a good samaritan?
Wasn’t that relying a little too much on luck? And wasn’t luck just another word for coincidence, in which he no longer believed?
Someone cleared her through.
The older boar who had walked by the public computers every half hour was looking at him.
“Just a minute,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen, but mind skidding around for a solution.
“We are closing, young man,” she said in a calm voice.
“I just—”
“We are closing.” The tone of her voice now had a hint of motherly finality added to the calmness.
“Fine,” Thomas mumbled, shouldering his backpack. Had the cold weather caused compassion to shrivel into nothingness?
He tightened his overcoat as he stepped outside, which did little against the cold.
It was dark.
Of course, it was dark. It was January, and he’d stayed inside until they closed. He was frozen before the end of the block and stepped into the convenience store for the heat. The smell of cooking food from the deli corner reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything all day. The prices on the display told him he’d continue going hungry.
Lodging was a better use of his money right now. Not that he wanted to spend it on even that. His best course of action was to come up with a way to make some money and pay for a bus ticket. That would be easier if he didn’t squander the little he had.
He stepped to the window and gazed outside.
Could he perform sex for money?
He snorted. He had the performing part down without a problem. But how did he go about offering himself to strangers and asking to be paid? It was called the oldest industry in the world, not the easiest to get into.
He noticed he stood next to a display of packaged dried sausages. Before his mind could go into the gutter, his stomach rumbled.
He was right here, looking outside. If he grabbed a handful and teleported, the clerk wouldn’t be able to do anything, but the camera would… nope. That was pointed at the alcohol fridge.
So he could—
Was the clerk eyeing him intently? Maybe he was checking Thomas out? Right, because that was how his luck ran these days.
He left as casually as he could.
Did stores like this one call each other to report suspicious people? If one of them caught him teleporting on camera, how long until the government was after him, too?
What was he thinking? If he was going to risk being hunted down by the government, it shouldn’t be over stealing a handful of dried meat sticks. No, he had to go big or go home.
He was looking around for… a bank, he realized, when what he was considering hit him.
Rob a bank?
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Taking from his grandfather was more borrowing than stealing. Sure, he hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t left an IOU, but once he explained, Magnus would understand.
A bank?
What were the odds that once all of this was done and he returned the money, because he would, they’d understand and forgive him?
Did he think he was in some family movie?
He’d heard the line about power corrupting, but he’d always thought it was a plot device. Now here he was, contemplating robbing a bank after what? Not even a week on his own? Half that with some level of handle on his teleportation.
And he was forgetting the biggest problem with his plan. He’d only teleported where he could see, and when he managed a place that was far, he’d needed to be fucked for a recharge.
Fuck. Why hadn’t he searched for bathhouses when he had access to a computer? How was he going to recharge? Grant had told him he needed the sex. He looked at the other pedestrians. Would one of them point him in the right direction if he asked?
He was so not cut out for this.
He found a nook out of the building wind and huddled.
He couldn’t do this. He had no idea where to sleep so he wouldn’t freeze, no idea where he could get food, or sex. It had all been Grant. Thomas sucked at surviving on his own.
The wind shifted and got under the overcoat, causing his teeth to chatter audibly. That did it. He was using the money he had for a motel room and in the morning he was messaging his parents so they could arrange to get him home. If someone watched that, then they were welcome to take him. Right now, he’d rather deal with this Raphael than be out here, lost and miserable.
It wasn’t a great plan—were plans to surrender ever great—but it was a plan. Knowing what he intended to do made him feel better and that let him push out of the nook and brave the cold.
The first thing to take care of was food, but he couldn’t spend too much on that until he knew how much a motel room cost. He could hit a fast-food place and go for their cheap menu… but would he be able to resist adding anything to that? That was the point of them, after all, getting him in there for the cheap stuff and getting him to spend more on everything else around it.
He spotted the food truck under the street lamp and noticed the lineup. Were food trucks cheap? The line-up would indicate it was good, wouldn’t it? But it also meant higher demand, which would result in higher prices.
His stomach grumbled a protest at the procrastination. It wouldn’t cost him anything to see what the prices were. If they weren’t reasonable, he’d only be in the position he was right now.
The food advertised was Polish, and the prices were more reasonable than he expected, so he got into the line, taking his backpack off and holding it before him. He didn’t protest when people huddled around him as that meant more heat, but he kept a hand on the overcoat’s pocket where he kept his wallet.
He could see the pictures on the side of the truck when he was shoved hard enough he ended up on his ass.
“Asshole!” he yelled at the runner and regretted the outburst. He got to his feet, pick up the backpack, and put his hand back on the pocket… which no longer had the bulge his wallet had caused. He put his hand in the pocket to check, then he was looking at the runner in the distance, his heart sinking and then rising with his anger.
“Son of a bitch!”
He took off after him, putting the pack on.
He literally couldn’t afford to be robbed.
The thief had distance over Thomas, but Thomas has one advantage, and it was a good one. As soon as he stepped out of the light of a post, he teleported three ahead. This would be simple, since the sidewalk was deserted. He did it again, and once more, as the thief, still a block away, turned between buildings.
Thomas teleported the distance and nearly slipped off his feet as he tried to do the ninety-degree turn.
That had let the thief put distance between them in the alley, but that was easy to fix. Thomas threw himself in the thief’s direction and teleported.
What had Grant said about trying something new under combat situations?
Right.
Bad idea.
Thomas appeared high and only clipped the thief’s shoulder before crashing down hard. He pushed himself up despite the screaming pain in his shoulder.
“That’s my wallet,” he said through gritted teeth. “Give it back.” All Thomas could tell about the thief, with it being so dark, was that he was lanky.
“’Fraid you’re mistaken, mate.”
“I’ve had a really bad couple of days,” Thomas growled. “You really don’t want to piss me off.”
“Is that so?” The thief sounded so cocky. Thomas needed to put him in his place. “’Fraid your day ain’t gonna get any better, mate.”
The punch blindsided Thomas as he was about to throw himself at the thief, and he was on the ground again, this time with his head ringing. He pushed himself to all four, but something hit him in the stomach and he no longer had the strength to move.
“Don’t bother,” the thief said as someone pulled on his overcoat. “Just take the pack.” Hands rummaged through his pockets. “You shoulda left it. The night woulda’ve gone better, mate. But I’ma gonna be nice and leave you this expensive-looking overcoat. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for you freezing to death, would I? Enjoy Denver, mate.”
Thomas tried to curse them. Yell, order them to return their things. He even tried to stand, but all he got out of that was his consciousness leaving him too.
* * * * *
Denver, CO, January 19th
Thomas woke to a hand on his neck and he shoved the thief away with a yell, then groaned in pain as his stomach protested the motion.
“Careful there, friend,” the thief said.
“I’m not your friend,” Thomas snapped and glared… it wasn’t the thief. He was too wide. He didn’t think the other one, the burly one, would bother talking. “Sorry.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to give those two something to remember me by.” The man shook a cloth-covered fist in the direction the thief and his accomplice had left. Thomas realized that some of his man’s mass was because he wore many jackets one over the other.
“You saw?” Maybe he knew them and could help him get his stuff back.
“I was rounding the corner as they left you.” The man searched through the snow and smiled as he picked up something.
“No.” No-no-no. The thief had gone through his pockets. Thomas reached in, hoping they’d missed the envelope. It wasn’t there. His backup plan was gone.
“What’s wrong?” the man asked and Thomas crawled away on seeing the stone he held. He looked at what he was holding. “Oh, that’s for that bump on the side of your head. The cold’s going to reduce the swelling. Winter’s good about providing cold things, you know.”
Thomas took it. The stone was the size of a rounded egg, smooth, with its sides rounded. It was cold enough that it stung through his fur before soothing the pain.
“I’m Donal,” the man said, offering his hand. “Donal Hines. Now. What’s wrong?”
Thomas shook a hand that had to be covered by three pairs of gloves. “Thomas. I’d need all night to tell you.”
“Then how about you keep it to that wail?” He pulled a thermos from within one of the layers.
“That’s just the last straw on an already broken back,” Thomas sighed. “I had an envelope with vital information on it.”
“Oh, right!” Donal handed him the thermos. “Serve yourself. It’s tea. I hope you like tea. I can’t stand coffee.” He searched through the layers.
Thomas unscrewed the cap.
Except for being outside, instead of a truck, this felt eerily familiar. He paused before pouring tea into the cap. “I can’t pay you back for this.”
“No surprise there,” Donal replied. “There you are. I swear I’d put you in the other pocket.” He offered Thomas an envelope. “That’s why I was running after you. It’s quite the pair of legs you have.”
Thomas stared in disbelief. In the near-total dark, it looked suspiciously like the one Grant had given him.
His backup plan.
“Where did you get that?” he asked cautiously.
“It fell out of your coat when you ran by me.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “And you chased me to return it?”
Donal shrugged. “Call it doing a good turn ahead. Maybe, in spite of what just happened to you, my kind act will make it more likely you’ll help someone in need when you come across them. It’s a harsh world we live in. I try to smooth its edges when I can.”
Thomas put the cap on the thermos and took the envelope. What he’d described sounded a lot like he thought of himself as a good Samaritan. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“I’m just glad I could help.” He took the thermos and filled the cap as Thomas put the envelope away.
Thomas took the offered cap and the heat radiating from it, as he held it in both hands, was almost painful.
“Do you have someplace to go?”
Home, he wanted to say, but now, he wasn’t sure he’d even make it the night. He shook his head.
“That’s what I thought,” Donal said with a nod. “You have the look of the lost on you. How about I help you some more?”
Thomas finished the slow swallow he’d started, then looked a Donal over the cap. “You brought me back my envelope, and now you’re going to help me again?” He couldn’t help the bitterness that followed. “That’s awfully convenient.”
Donal laughed. “Convenient would be some sugar daddy stopping at the end of the alley and offering to take care of you for the rest of your life in exchange for a piece of that sweet ass of yours.” He looked up and peered down the alleyway. Thomas hesitated, then cautiously looked over his shoulder.
“Nope,” the man said. “Not showing up. Think of me as the next best thing. What I have going for me is that I know these streets and alleys and, more importantly, I know where the warm places are. What do you say?”
Thomas took another long swallow of tea. “You aren’t going to make it conditional on getting some of my ass?”
Donal smiled. “I’m not in the habit of making my help conditional on anything.”
Thomas handed him the empty cap. “What if I ask really nicely?”
The man stared at him, then burst out laughing.",
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