Lucian left the yards with his pay and the familiar ache in his hands,
the street carrying him toward the canal with no thought at first. He bought fried bread from a cart and ate it off as he walked, the pace dictated by how many people were around him -- no pair of Watch stood by to see him leave, and no clerk called his name, only for a stretch: it might have been any end of shift.
not until he drew close to the lower bridge did he see
a man fall beside him as if they'd planned it -- middle height and a clean coat appropriate to the district, and an easy smile that never touched his liking eyes.
"You lift," the man said like commenting on the weather, "like someone who could be doing work that pays better than day crates."
Lucian looked at him over his shoulder. "Do I know you?"
