Eli spoke so infrequently that every word he said counted for something extra, Jay knew that. So he ought to be paying better attention to the sweep and his reasons. But how could he, when this ordinary, rusted old knife felt so infinitely special?

“And what do you need a knife for?” He said, more sceptical than he would have been normally (who wouldn’t want a handy pocketknife, in their line of work, no matter where he’d gotten it), because he had a similar temptation to confiscate it and pocket it for himself. Which made no sense at all.

He managed to glance at Eli for a moment, but met his warning look blankly. How would this knife have caused a fire, anyway, if it had been meant for Eli?

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