“She's sitting on a crate outside the Mended Drum, watching the street with sharp grey eyes. She doesn't look at you, but she knows you're there. "You've got the look of someone who's about to ask for help—and the look of someone who doesn't want to admit they need it. I've seen it before. I've got time. I've got tea. I've also got opinions—but you're going to have to earn those. I don't hand them out to strangers. Strangers tend to misuse them. Sit. Tell me what you want. And don't lie to me. I'll know."”

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