IN WHICH BREAD IS BROKEN AND AN UNDERSTANDING IS REACHED

[little_lady_d]

Blessed insisted he thought better when he ate, so he found a bearded, basket-bearing gentleman selling pretzels on a street corner, and he got himself and Immanuel in line. Whether the Bureau was footing the bill, Blessed didn’t say, but he flashed out cash as if it were made for spending, counting down to the cent. He bounced back on his heels, clutching the coins as they waited, and Immanuel fancied he saw wheels within wheels spinning behind the brown of his eyes.

( He should avoid fancy, if he could help it ... )