Holy shit. Kieran looked at the sickles, mind momentarily blank, and then back at Yousef. It was a solid step towards making his rent, even if it was not even half - it was a fourth of the twelve sickles he used to make weekly. If there was anything he could do - and Kieran was not really ruling out anything - to get more sickles, then he could give Eileen his half of the rent, afford more decent groceries, store some money away to help pay for anything Fallon needed. He could breathe until he got his next job. Yousef told him to get another drink and come talk about it, but Kieran's mind was already made up - short of prostitution (and he was not entirely sure that the stranger wasn't asking for sexual favors) he had few other options until he was able to dredge up work.

He chugged the rest of the pint after he watched Yousef leave, dumbfounded. Kieran snatched the sickles off the table and slipped them into his mostly-empty coin-purse. He walked towards the bar and, cheerfully, ordered a round of shots for himself and the rest of the people at the bar, handing over a sickle to cover it and getting back a small sum of knuts. He took the shot, steeled himself, and walked outside.

He was feeling the quickness of the shot and the drink, just a little. Not in terms of being drunk, but in that fun sort of buzz, where anything was possible. The cold air outside the bar hit him and Kieran turned, eyes adapting to the dark. He was not sure where Yousef had gone, but after walking around the corner, saw a figure in the alleyway.

"Yousef?" Kieran called, soft but curious, stepping into the alleyway. "I'm in."

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