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Kaveh adjusts his hold on the boy's arm, “So, is there a reason you were out on the curb?”
“Ehhhhhh,” He drawls, “I’ono. I don’t really remember.”
Kaveh nods slightly. Oh, the nights he’s had, in his youth and in his present. Passionate and wine-drunk, he wandered through the arteries of the city with thoughts so melancholy they felt like structures too large to be contained in one human’s body. More than once he woke or was awoken with only fragments of the night before, and the acute realization that he had, at some point, disgraced himself publicly.
“I see,” Kaveh murmured, “I will say, the next time I’m at Lambad’s tavern, I’m going to chide him heavily for giving drinks to children.”
“I wasn’t at a bar.”
“Where were you, then?”
or; Kaveh helps out a boy at his lowest.