"Oh, I enjoy breakfast with those I sleep with," Max said, touching the end of Carovo's nose lightly. "But first, may you direct me to your bathroom? I wish to freshen up a little." Of course a bath would have to wait until he got home. He wouldn't dare be the sort of guest to use up his host's coal on himself. Especially when the Neath was cooling to mimic Winter on the Surface.

He went where he was directed, not bothering to cover his naked body. Modesty was something forgotten after sharing one's body with another. He relieved himself and splashed some cold water on his face, finding a face cloth to wash most of the dirt and sweat from last night's event off. After he felt refreshed, he joined Carovo in the bedroom once more, sitting on the end of the bed and searching for his clothes in the pile tossed to the end.

When he'd directed Max to the door outside and to the right, Carovo got up and went around to the stove. It was still warm, and the kettle above it was as well. Pouring half into a bowl on the dresser, Carovo dampened a rag and ran it over his face, arms, most of his body, and saved what was left in the kettle for tea. It would wake him up a bit more, at least, and perhaps Max as well. As it heated under a new fire, he went around to grab his clothes and pull them on again, despite their being from the previous day. He didn't mind the light scent of Veilgarden, the spices from the shop below.

As Max reentered, Carovo's eyes were on the shelf nearby, and the golden pot atop it. Beautiful, but it wasn't made of gold. The honey inside was gold. He'd pulled it off the shelf and was studying it. Why did he taste honey so well? He hadn't used any during the night. He'd hardly thought of it, really. Moving his tongue around his mouth, Carovo still tasted it a little. Maybe he was thinking about it too much recently...

Max caught sight of the golden pot Carovo was surveying and paused before coming closer. Prisoner's honey... Max had never tasted it before, but had seen many a honey den in Veilgarden. So this man was addicted? Not like the honey-addled maniacs that frothed at the mouth and screamed profanities from the rooftops, throwing clothes and other things at passerbys. He sat lightly next to him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, kissing Carovo's rough chin.

"What have you got there, love?" He of course knew what it was, but asked anyway.

"Ah..." Carovo paused, staring at the small pot. There was no label. No etched words. Just a plain, clear glass pot. "I'm sure you've seen. Honey dens are all over the place, a couple around the Mandrake." He hesitated, then took the top off. It was more than half full, and the only time he ever opened it was when he used it. The earthy, sweet scent was so strong, calling, asking him to come dream again. "It's the only thing that still works." He admitted. "I drink the strongest booze and can't even feel it. It's the best way to see the sun again. I can get away from the nightmares and go back home for a while." He closed the pot again and looked to Max. "I try not to use it much. I don't want to turn into a raving lunatic. Like those on the streets." He shook his head a little. Sometimes he thought about it. Maybe honey-induced insanity was a little better. He couldn't die, after all, why not be blissfully unaware of life.

"The sun...?" Max's mouth fell open as he stared at the red-haired man in amazement. "You're from the Surface?!" Excitement bubbled as it always did when he met the rare person from the Surface. Not many up there would wind up in a hell-hole like the Neath, well not for any good reason anyway.

"Tell me! I want to know everything!" He knew he was probably asking too much, and sounded like an excitable child. He slid off the bed and knelt in front of Carovo, holding his hands and moving the pot of honey away from him. "Is it as beautiful as the poets write and the artists paint?"

Carovo paused, mouth half open as if he were going to respond immediately, then he closed it and focused on Max's hands, grasped around his. "It's, um..." He stopped again, and nodded slowly. "It's brighter than all the phosphorescent insects in the Neath's cavern ceiling and the gas-lights and fire you can find. You can't even look at the sun for most of the day because it'll blind you. But there are times near dusk, when the sun is almost down, it gets a bright red-orange, and you can look at it for a moment without harm. And the sky is so bright blue, and it turns red and pink and yellow in the morning and evening. Sometimes it's gray and dark, and thunder roars and rain falls heavier than it ever could here."

The beginning of a tirade, Carovo controlled himself as he continued: "The grass is soft and green and beautiful and smells so clean, and flowers of any color you could ever conceive litter the fields and homes and give off bright smells that get you lost. And trees grow high and wide and green and brown, and sometimes pink, and when the weather gets cooler they turn orange and red and yellow and brown and lose their leaves before real snow falls. Snow you can eat and lie on for a time before you get too cold. And bats and ravens and frost moths aren't the only things in the sky---birds of different colors and size fly and sing and each is so different. And animals you've never seen before run and hide in the forests and in the deserts and mountains, and the oceans..."

He drifted slightly. "The oceans are so... beautiful. So... so much larger than the Unterzee here. And they're not as salty, and don't harbor horrible monstrosities. There are no Rubbery Men or devil or Tomb colonists. Up there, no one's ever heard of the Masters. And the lakes... And rivers. The rivers there don't harm you, and there aren't any drownies to pull you under. In fact, you can swim and drink from the rivers without worry of any of that. And at night..." He closed his eyes. "The moon is so big and beautiful... It's like the sun, but softer, easier on the eyes. And there are so many stars in the sky you could never hope to count them all. And everything's cool and quiet and calm, and sometimes it feels like you're the only one in the world."

He almost felt like he was there, back under a deeply sagging willow tree, smelling the soft, cool night air and hearing the crickets, the breeze, and holding the hands of his love... But then he opened his eyes again and saw his dark little room, and Max's angel features eager to know of the world above.

Max's eyes began to water as he heard Carovo speak. It did sound beautiful, but there was a hint of sadness in the man's words. It made Max wonder why he would give up such beauty to live in the dark and grime of the Neath. He kissed Carovo, trying to cheer him up, sitting on the bed next to him and glancing about his small room.

"Why would you ever give it up?" he questioned with a longing sigh. "I've always wanted to see it... To leave this nightmarish place..." He blinked hard and looked back at Carovo. "Please, I don't want this to be a one night stand. It seems we both need someone to talk to, and I'd be glad to keep in contact with you. All I have is that bird brained raven to talk to, and he never helps with my nightmares..." He trailed off and thought hard about something.

"Last night, you asked me why I drink so much, why I have so many nightmares? My parents were... murdered when I was younger. I don't know who did it. I don't even know if they are still out there, waiting to get me..." His voice was catching in his throat and he had to stop to swallow the sadness down. "Ever since then... I have been so lonely, though I would never admit it... They promised that for my 21st birthday they would take me to the Surface... I..." He couldn't fight back the tears any longer and he covered his face in shame as he sobbed silently.

Carovo, saddened at the way Max seemed to dwell as much as he did, shook his head. The way the angel cried at the memories. He was young, of course. Had he even reached his twenty-first birthday yet? "Max." He pulled the young man close, resting his chin lightly on his head and stroking the beautiful blonde hair that spilled rather haphazardly down his back. "Murder happens just as much up there as it does down here. You know..." He laughed, but didn't know why. "I came down here a very long time ago. You'd be surprised, really. I was looking for someone that got away with attempted murder and followed his trail to Fallen London. He tried to kill me, and my love. He almost killed us both, actually, on separate occasions. I got tired of it and left him so I could find the bastard..."

He closed his eyes against the burning that almost had him falling into the same state as Max. "By the fourth year of my stay I fell in with a devil that seduced me and started making me forget about the surface, and... him." At this point he could hardly think of his name, let alone speak it. "I almost lost my soul back then, but I lost something a lot more... important to me. So many things, so much more important." He shook at the effort it took to keep steady. "I lost... my humanity... and I lost my... my love... and my life before, on the surface... I'm in a completely different world now than I was, Max, and it was because of a weak will. And now nightmares of the dead keep me up at night. Your drinking lets you forget your own memories and nightmares for a while, and my honey lets me forget mine." He chuckled bitterly. "It's like a perfect storm of addiction." And he was beginning to want to dream more and more.

Max rested his head on the man's shoulder wiping away his own tears and comforting Carovo. He stroked the older man's arm, feeling sad that something that bad had happened to him. Max had been lucky enough to avoid the attention of devils and he had never been in love, truly so much that if something was to happen to his partner, it would hurt him. He couldn't begin to imagine the pain Carovo felt.

"OK... Well, let's stop feeling sorry for ourselves and go get some breakfast. I know of a cute little bakery nearby we could go to... I am on fairly good terms with the owner, she usually gives me something for free." By good terms, Max meant he slept with her often. He wouldn't be surprised if Carovo himself hadn't at one point fell for her curves and good looks. Though, if he was in love with a man, it was obvious he was purely into the male sex.

Carovo smiled in spite of himself, and nodded. "Sure, sure. Just, ah, have to wake up a bit." He stood and stretched, feeling as if he were suddenly ancient. He went around to the hot kettle and pulled a couple cups from the shelf above it, and a few cloth bags from a wooden box. When he was on a normal sleeping schedule, as he seemed to have finally fallen into, Carovo relied on strong, powerful tea to wake him up a bit and keep him alert and focused throughout the day. It came from the shop below him, which tended to do under-the-counter trade in tea from the Orient.

This was strong. If he was sure, some of the bags contained varying amounts of opium or dried flowers soaked in laudanum. It was hard to say no once someone was hooked on it, but Carovo had grown used to its effects. The fact that he couldn't die also hardened his body to the effects of intentional overdose. But the very slight buzz in the back of his head was still pleasant, though he'd gathered tea bags that weren't spiked in case Max wanted a cup as well. "This stuff is made from dried flowers and spices from the surface." He said, pouring hot water over the bag resting in his cup. "Does well to get you going." Bringing it up to his face, Carovo breathed in the heavy fumes. It was already clearing up his lingering nightmare and memories of the surface.

"Oh?" Max was interested. He had heard of such drinks before, but had never tasted it. He knew that sometimes the tea was spiked with various mind altering drugs, something he had been trying to avoid in fear of losing what sanity he had left. He took his own cup of hot water, holding it out for Carovo to place the small net bag of dried leaves and spices into. He sniffed it, his body warming at the smell. He took a sip and was amazed at how bitter, but refreshing it was.

"Better than coffee..." he muttered, more to himself than to his companion. He sat on a nearby chair and sipped it quietly, thinking about Carovo and about his story. It seemed that he had finally found something interesting, someone to talk to and entertain himself with. Though he didn't want to seem overbearing or obsessed, he found that being with this man helped his insanity keep at bay.

Carovo smiled, leaning against the wall by the stove. It warmed his legs as the coal burnt itself out inside. "If you get into a habit of tea, you should do well to be wary of bags and boxes that have a little something extra." He had a feeling Max knew what he meant, but went on anyway: "Most of what I have, or what's available in smaller teahouses, is full of opium. Mostly it just takes one try to get you hooked." He shook his head. "That wore down for me some time ago, but I worry for others..." Others that were so quick to try to forget their nightmares at a bar. One with such an addictive personality---like his own---would be powerless against that drug.

Carovo tasted lavender when he drank. It took away the sweet remnants of honey, and reminded him of cold, late winter nights on the surface. When he closed his eyes he could almost see it---sitting at a window in the firelight, the glow illuminating the untouched snow as he sat in a thickly padded chair with the warm body of a young man leaning against him, getting a good view of the ice-incased tree that looked like it was made of crystal. The memory made him shiver, and open his eyes quickly. "Right." Draining the rest of his cup, he put it down on a small table by the door. "I'm ready when you are." He said simply. Carovo didn't know if he ought to tell Max now that he couldn't, as it were, age another moment. Of course he'd said he lost his humanity, but that could mean a multitude of things. He knew where everything in Fallen London and the Neath were located now, and knew the place Max was talking about.

But he decided against it. He didn't want this to just last for a day or two either, and there may well be plenty of time to admit all the stupid things he'd done.

Max finished his tea and set the empty cup beside Carovo's, making sure he had all his possessions and clothes before leaving the man's apartment and walking back down the stairs. A mangy looking cat sat by the door, but darted away as soon as he saw him. Max watched it run and wondered why many people liked chasing the stealthy and quick things. He waited for Carovo to join him at the foot of the stairs, wrapping his jacket around his thin frame and ignoring a passerby who was whistling at him across the street.

The small bakery was actually just a few blocks away from Carovo's spice shop. Max could almost smell the bread from here and the sweet cakes that Doris baked. He led the way, not speaking much and keeping his pockets close. He wasn't sure what Carovo felt about pickpocketing, so he didn't bother doing so to people they passed. He still had some Rosty Gold left from the victim he stole from yesterday. Doris loved the stuff and took it as payment instead of Echoes.

He found the shop, open and busy as it always was. Many were simply admirers of Doris' body, standing around her store and gawking like it was a peep show. She enjoyed all the attention though, serving those with money delicious home made breads and cakes. Her lilac eyes brightened when she saw Max enter and she rushed over, his breasts almost falling out of her very revealing dress.

"Maximillion! What a surprise! I haven't seen you in a long time, dear," she leant up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "And this is your friend?" She gave Carovo a critical look before returning her attention to Max. "What can I do for you, hun?"

Max blushed slightly, hoping Carovo wouldn't find her too rude. She did get jealous of anyone Max walked in with, which is why he didn't usually bother. He smiled at her and asked for her freshest cinnamon twists, a delicacy of hers and something Max enjoyed a lot. She rushed over to one of her shelves and returned with the twists, wrapped in soft paper. Max thanked her, slipping some Rosty Gold into her cleavage with a grin. She giggled and they left the crowded store, Max again having to ignore the stares from some of the men in there. He passed a twist to Carovo, avoiding the man's eyes. "She's... a friend of mine..." he muttered, taking a bite of his own twist.

Carovo had decided to follow Max as he'd intended to, letting him lead on for the most part as he intentionally yet apologetically bumped into a couple people that strayed too close. He knew Max was hardly one to find a pickpocket unsavory, as Carovo had once or twice seen the young man's very quick hand at work, namely in the spice shop. Still, he wasn't one to be flashy with his own handiwork. A bump, a quick apology, and as the victim turned a hand sliding into an outside pocket to lift whatever might be in. A pocket watch once, a string of moon-pearls a second time. They were already at the bakery by then, and was looking around a familiar landscape. He'd been here a time or two, but that had been when Doris was a little girl and not quite the rowdy, full-figured woman she was now. Her antics bordered on explosive, though, so he'd began avoiding the place.

He returned her critical glance with one that could have leveled the building, but decided against saying anything. It wasn't worth drawing the attention, and did seem that Max enjoyed her antics. He simply shook his head, though he wasn't one to talk, and when Max came back, Carovo accepted the twist and nodded. "Friend, hm?" He repeated. "She's, ah... something, really. I knew her when she was a little girl..." Light ponytail, bright eyes... A laugh that sounded like silver bells. A sweet thing---it was no wonder she grew up to sell them too.

"When she was...?" Max paused. Doris was a bit older than him, but not that much. He wondered how old Carovo was. He did seem nearing his early 30's, his body had given away this last night; the figure of a fully grown man, not yet starting to wear. He did not like asking his "friends" their age, finding such personal details unnecessary, but yet he wanted to know more about this red haired man. He finished his twist before Carovo, having noticed the man's handiwork on the way to the bakery. A skilled pickpocket, but not as good as Max. He had lived on the streets once, and called Flit his home for most of his teen years. One learnt a thing or two when living with criminals.

He brushed against an old man, who was walking in the opposite direction. Hands slipped into his pockets before even eye contact was made. The man moved on, unaware that Max now held his lump of glowing Deep Amber. He joined Carovo again, showing it to him. Valuable, yes, and very pretty to look at. Rubbery Men usually carried such Amber, but due to his fear, he had never been able to have some for himself.

Carovo nodded, crushing up the soft paper that had held the twist and placing it in his pocket. It would be a good decoy in case someone decided to try to lift something from him, though his sensitivity had been heightened by his paranoia over the years. "When she was about six. Sweetest little thing, always talking." He laughed, and glanced sideways as Max brushed an old man. Ah, the elderly, so easy to take from. Some didn't seem to care that much. But at least he carried some good things, such as Max's new lump of amber. "Not so bad." He commented. For one that didn't look to be too far into his twenties, or at least halfway there, the young man was quick and careful. Though some would consider his lack of apology to be rude.

"Which reminds me, I thought you might like this." He pulled a watch from his pocket, but quickly put it back. "Sorry, not the gold one..." Grabbing the other chain, he pulled that out and passed it to Max. While a man in the bakery was halfway enthralled with Doris, Carovo had simply unclipped the silver pocket watch from his vest. "Silver seems more your fit. And I think you need to keep track of time a little clearer." Carovo had a nice collection of beautiful watches. Some he lifted off drunks in the gutter---others he won fair and square in fistfights on the docks. This one was polished and beautiful, almost as lovely as Max himself.

Max laughed at the gift, checking it and placing it carefully into his zipped and belled pocket. "Edgar steals watches all the time. He's obsessed with them," he explained, but smiling still at the gift. Max had been given a pocket watch from his father once... It broke the day his parents were murdered. "I'll keep it safe." He lifted the Deep Amber up to one of the gas-lit lamps, amazed by how much it shone.

With a gentle smile, he placed the Amber in Carovo's hand, closing the man's fingers around it. "I don't want you to forget about me. This will remind you if you do." He leant over and kissed the older man passionately, embracing him for a long time afterwards. How nice it felt to be in this man's presence, to smell and taste him. "You know where to find me," he whispered, licking Carovo's ear lobe lightly and then waving good bye.

He made his way back home, humming merrily to himself and occasionally checking his new watch. Midday, or midnight... Either way, he had plenty of time to pursue an investigation, perhaps to find out whether devils could die...

It was a lonely feeling when Max entered his small shack several hours later, swatting the nosey raven away as he closed and locked his door behind him. He threw out the burnt soup and cooked some more up, starting up his bath as well. He relaxed, letting the hot water pleasantly cook him as though he was in the soup. Closing his eyes he thought about Carovo, finding other things that could keep him occupied that night in his dirty thoughts.

When he was left, it was a rather empty feeling, though the warm way the amber let off a strange, natural heat let him go on without thinking too pointedly on Max. A delightful young man, though stuck on his vices, as Carovo was. Perhaps they were both pursuing false realities a little too much...

Pocketing the amber, keeping it safe below the crumpled paper, he went on, to the docks as he had planned. He'd agreed to take care of a cluster of sorrow-spiders that had taken up residence in one of the offices, and had to before they plucked any more eyes from the sleeping zailors or unsuspecting urchins that had been taken up on ships. He'd collected a pair of goggles from the cowards that didn't dare enter the office, and a few thick wooden boards that would have been better used to repair the docks, and quickly got to work, slapping the boards down on thick spider exoskeletons and leaving disgusting smears of slime on the floors and walls. But there was plenty of spider silk to be gathered for those that were cursed with cleaning up the area.

He very nearly peeled out of his clothes when he returned home, the clock on his wall speaking at least six in the evening. Or morning. But he preferred to call it evening. Filling a bath, Carovo spent a good few hours in the water, staring at the ceiling and forcing himself to consider any other means of escape of this world than honey. But he lost that battle later, and descended upon the gold pot to vanish into a dream full of sunlight and a young blonde man with angel wings.

That noise... What was the blasted feathery fiend up to now? Max had been having a decent sleep for once, no nightmares and filled with what he supposed the Surface would be like. He had been walking over golden sand, a giant blue ocean moving to the left of him and the golden sun setting in front, holding hands with a familiar red-haired man... But now he sat upright, glaring at the roof as he heard Edgar squawk loudly and thump about. Soon he went quiet, a few more scramblings sounded. This made Max worried.

He grabbed his jacket and left his house, looking up at the nest made of watches and straw. But only the nest wasn't there. "Edgar?" he called, suddenly feeling dread and concern in the pit of his belly. He found a ladder leant up against his house, which he felt was odd. Climbing it without another thought, his eyes fell on a horrid scene. Black feathers littered his roof and the nest had been destroyed, all the watches either shattered or stolen. Edgar's limp body lay nearby, his small chest heaving with his last breath. "Edgar!"

Max ran forward, ignoring how he slid on the loose tiling and almost put a hole in his roof. He scooped up the bird and held him gently in his arms. "Edgar... Are you OK?" The birds eyes were closed and his feathers were dirty, stained with red. "No... No... Edgar..."

Max fell into a dark spiral of sadness, screaming with rage and pain as his friend took his last breath. Why? Who? One of those rooftop urchins... They must have killed Edgar while robbing the bird's nest. But why? Edgar had been his friend... Even though he pretended to hate the thing and grew annoyed with him... The bird had been there for him since the day his parents... He cried out again, clutching the ragged body tightly. He would kill them... Kill them all...

He couldn't remember how he got there. The rain was still falling as he stood outside of the small spice shop, Edgar's stiff body in his hands. Perhaps madness would be a better way to hide from his pain and torment? He stood out there until the shop keeper noticed him and called for Carovo, sounding concerned.

Carovo had felt himself return but dared not open his eyes. He played off the darkness to nighttime and the dampness to coming rain, rain that would just wash over them and re-energize them and... but that was rain... When he opened his eyes, finally, he heard it on the window, on the roof, and finally forced himself to sit up and wipe the dampness from his eyes. The taste of honey made his mouth feel thick and sticky, and he got up to pull some water from the jug he kept full from one day to the next. The door to his apartment opening suddenly had him choke on a mouthful, dropping the metal cup as the shop keep entered, damp with rain that fell in a mist outside. "Damn it, Drew!" Carovo gasped. "What's going on? Come barging in like the place's on fire---"

"That boy's out there."

"Who?"

"The blonde kid, the one you were with---"

"Max?"

"Sure, sure. Holdin' a dead bird, just staring up at your door."

That bird? The raven he called a pest? Carovo brushed past Drew and ran---half slid---down the stairs under the awning and splashed in a light puddle as he ran to Max. He paused when the dirty, bloodstained body of a familiar raven came into view. "Max!?" Carovo's heart was racing, namely in fear. The young man looked... haunted. "What happened? What...?" He shook his head, pulling Max out of the rain and into the safety of the spice shop. His golden-blonde hair was streaked down his face, and Carovo brushed it back. "What happened to him?" He asked seriously.

"Car... Car... Caro..." Max burst into tears again, hugging the man tightly. What had brought him to Carovo's doorstep, he wasn't sure. The body of his good friend was still slightly warm, though his breath had left a while ago. Max realised he was soaking, his feet bare, bruised and muddy. He hadn't even locked his door... He started to breathe quickly, his eyes dimming as he fell into a panic attack.

"'e needs sum tea," Drew interrupted, rushing out the back of the store to brew some nice, calming lavender tea. Max kept a hold of Carovo and the dead crow, feeling pathetic to be so worked up over the bird's death. "Someone... They stole his watches... Why didn't I let him sleep inside... Why didn't I... Speak kinder words to him..." Tears were falling as heavy as the rain outside. He sneezed and shivered, his toes completely frozen. Drew returned with a mug of hot tea, passing it to Max. He drunk it gratefully, the hot liquid scalding his tongue.

Carovo had led him to a chair in the corner of the room---a large armchair, overstuffed but comfortable and warm, as Drew went back to dig out a box of tea. "There's no reason to be blaming yourself right now." He said sternly. "No reason. Drew---get a blanket from my bedroom, in the bottom drawer of the dresser---go!" He waved the man off, who hurried outside again and up the stairs to the second floor apartment. Carovo gently put a hand on the young man's cheek, feeling the chill there. "Calm down, now. You couldn't have imagined someone targeting him, could you? It's not your fault. Whoever wanted those watches would have gone through you too."

Drew returned with a thick blanket that smelled old, and Carovo unfurled it and wrapped it around Max's shoulders. "He was your friend, wasn't he?" He asked. "A good friend?" He felt the bird. Slightly warm still, damp with blood... and was that a stab wound? They had gotten onto the roof, it seemed. That had to have been where the bird had made his nest. A nest of watches. How could any low-life criminal resist?

Max cuddled into the blankets, holding the bird in his hands and stroking Edgar's beak, the one he used to say such annoying things with. He nodded, his tears falling on the bedraggled feathers of the raven. "He was... Like a brother... I..." He finished his tea, looking up at Carovo and blushing slightly. "I'm sorry... I'm being silly... He was just... a bird..." He sniffed and wiped his wet face. "Just a stupid... bird..."

Carovo shook his head. "Max. He was your friend. Companion. I can tell how close you were, despite short or harsh words sometimes. If something ever happened to Scar... I mean, sure I might act like I don't care about him, but I do. Like you care about Edgar." That was the bird's name, wasn't it? He thought he'd heard Max call him that once. Carovo set the empty mug aside and crouched in front of him. Drew stepped around cautiously.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yes, it... I mean, no... Just get going, Drew, move it!" Carovo waved him off, and the man nodded and scuttled away entirely. Carovo pulled up the blanket and rubbed the damp water out of Max's hair. "You're freezing..." He muttered. "Come upstairs, I think it's best you sit in front of the fireplace." He brought Max up, letting him keep hold of the bird as Carovo pulled the blanket tighter around him and led him out, then up, and finally through the still-open door of his apartment. One would have to find some respectable way to put Edgar to rest, but perhaps it was best left for a little later.

Max let himself be led again, sitting on the comfortable arm chair and staring hard into the flames. He remembered the night he first lived on the streets. He was in the gutter, crying and hungry, not sure how to do anything. A strange bird fluttered down next to him, passing him some food. The bird talked, and made Max smile and laugh again. Edgar had helped him learn how to steal and soon enough, Max was part of a small gang of urchins that lived in the rooftop city of Flit.

Now the bird was elsewhere, perhaps finally flying in the skies of the surface with other birds. Maybe his song was beautiful and his feathers colourful. He smiled at the thought as he stroked the raven's feathers. "I'll meet you there someday, I really will..."