She found him crouched in a corner smoking, digging dirt and weeds out of a crack in the concrete with a twig.
‘You okay?’ she asked. She sat down.
He nodded and pulled the cigarette away from his lips.
‘I suppose I got enough to do something about this now.’ He thrust the twig up and behind towards the ramshackle house above. ‘I could make it as good as new.’
‘Or better,’ she said. ‘You could always make it better.’
He ran the back of his hand across her cheek, careful not to burn her.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Maybe.’