[Past] You, Me and a Pitcher of Cream

She’d look around and folks would shift their gaze, quit their staring as they’d pass, then slowly return to it. Meg was clueless, still fresh and new in the underbelly of criminals, but knew, down to her very marrow she was perfectly safe with him. He’d see her home by the end of their little tour.

She’d catch his guiding hand lingering nearby, flashing him a grin while she tried to gauge their whereabouts. It was a sweet gesture and not expected of one of the rougher of the Coterie’s boys. Though, since he denied telling her if her guess was true or not, a pout formed across her lips.

Paaah! Not even a hint? her head would swivel in a wide circle, body turning in back to face the way they were going. Fiiiiine. Next time you give hints. They’d reach the turn, taking it and walking down a short street to find… not a canal.

Oh.

It was a small, tucked away garden in the heart of the dusty lowdown streets. A tree, not as old as the alienage’s vhenadahl shaded a small area, growing out of the split flagstones around a grate. Residents around had planted some other, hardy flowers that would survive the harsh dry climate during summer and the cool, chilling winds of winter.

I was totally wrong, but I don't care this is a much better spot.