After taking a shower – at my insistence – Six spent the day standing at the window on the lookout or sitting by the door with his ear pressed against it. I worked at my desk, trying to work out how he fitted into what I had so far and tried to glean more information from him.
“There’s a chair here if you want one,” I offered.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s not very comfortable on the floor.”
“It’s a soft carpet.”
“You’ve been sleeping rough, haven’t you?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You mean on the streets?” he said. “I’m a kid. That’d get me way too much attention.”
“So you find a bed every night?”
“I don’t need to sleep every night. But I get a roof over my head. I slept on a roof once.”
“Sounds cold.”
A faint smile crept over his face – just when I didn’t think he knew how.
“You can see the world from up there. Or more of it than you see anywhere else. I’d never seen so much in one eye-opening before.”
“So you never saw much of the world before?”
He shrugged. I didn’t push it.
As darkness fell outside, Six became agitated.
“They know we’re here,” he said. “They have to. They won’t wait long.”