(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

Chapter 49
He was a feral-looking man, ill-mannered and draped in shoddy clothes.
Mousey eyes darted about, scanning his surroundings as he slunk through
the alleyways. Sigilian life had compounded the burden of time's cruel
weight... while his face seemed that of a twenty-year-old lad, his hazel eyes
ached from having seen too much.
I rounded the corner to face him, and in an instant his hand twitched, as if
he were hiding something.
"Greetings. You must be Lenny."
He looked me up and down, then glanced about. Returning his attention to
me, he gave me a wicked grin. "You'd best have a good reason for disturbing
me, berk." An undercurrent of trepidation trickled through his voice.
"I have some questions..."
He laughed. "I ain't no tout. If you've got questions, go find one. You'd best
push off before I have to bleed you."
"What if I told you Byron Pikit sent me?" My lips pulled back in a cold smile.
Posturing. It was as easy as putting on a second skin.
He stopped smiling and examined me for a while. His eyes lingered on my
scars, and he swallowed slightly. "Pikit... sent you? Why?"
"He said you could answer some questions..."
Lenny frowned and backed off, stiff-shouldered. A muscle twitched in his
cheek and his hand ducked casually into his pockets. I nearly missed the
ruffle of cloth as something slipped from his palm. "What questions..."
"I'm not interested in stray coppers that've been clinging to your fingers,
Lenny. No, I want to ask you about the papers you stole from Trist."
He swallowed hard and those hazel eyes were locked onto mine. Lenny put
one hand on his hip in a nonchalant manner, but by his posture he was
wound tight as a spring. "I don't know what you're talking about, berk. You'd
best be off."
451