He rolled his eyes, albeit fondly, at her instance that she lived just fine. Cliff knew that was under the umbrella of society and its constant demands, and she wouldn’t know what living was truly like until she threw caution into the wind. Although it was fair to point out that Ida may spend a few nights in jail just as he’d done more than a few times in his life, but hey, at least he felt he was living a good life. He always had high hopes that his demon-spawn of a sister would be like Ida in the regard of wanting to not rebel against society, but then again it wasn’t as if Meena was ever going to amount to much, no matter how much Cliff attempted to pave the way in gold. People like them just didn’t escape the clutches of poverty.

He squinted at her as she seemed to look remorseful after him calling her a friend. Fine. They didn’t have to be friends of any kind. They were loosely friends, acquaintances more like it, and Cliff was happy to put her on the same shelf as Daffy – not quite friends but people he wouldn’t duck into an alleyway to avoid. The Potts girl was always showing up at his farm now for something or another, and he hated the idea of growing fond of her and looking forward to seeing her; what if he had the same thoughts for Ida? Clifford didn’t want to become attached to loose friends who were just going to abandon him in the long run.

As they entered High Street, he didn't touch her because he knew what people would think, someone like him touching someone like her. He put his hands behind his head and grinned at her, walking backward as he kept his eyes on Ida, ignoring all the scoffs from people he bumped into. “Well, Irvingly was desperate, and my demon-spawn of a child was thrilled for the dresses –” He couldn’t help but spit the words out like they were poison. That was the closest she was going to get to a thank you. “Because now she looks like a real girl.” He rolled his eyes before he knocked a fist gently against his skull before replacing it behind his head. “This I’ve had time to think about.” Well, think about was a loose term because the only thinking he’d done hadn’t gone beyond wanting to burn the candle inside the tent.

Cliff wasn’t one to really think things through; what was the point when plans always went to shit and he had to think on the fly anyway? He was street smart and a criminal that hadn’t been sent to Azkaban, so surely he was good at evasion and exit plans, right? They were going to find out either way. Nodding at her wanting to walk, he couldn’t help the frown that etched onto his face as he watched her own expression fall. His feet came to a sudden halt. “Hey, I promise nothing bad will happen to you, okay? I can take on anything that comes through a damn mirror, so trust me for once.”

Spinning around then to walk beside her rather in front of her, Cliff made sure to stay one step ahead of her (to protect what was his, of course.) Clifford then grasped her elbow very gently and tugged her toward a tree to hide behind (because that was a fantastic hiding spot), as he pointed ahead of them. A giant white tent had been pitched, the sides of it seeming to be tucked inside the ground itself to prevent anything from going in - or out; it stood inconspicuously, as if it had always belonged there. “There, see it?” He hummed. “We’re not going through the front door, we’re going through the side. Last chance to back out, Ida.” Brown eyes raised toward her and arched an eyebrow at her; he wouldn’t blame her if she decided against it, but it just meant she was a boring rule follower.

---