Bentley and I chat with the guy for quite a while. It fills our whole time as the sun comes fully up. I end up having to remind Bentley about work, but he says this morning involved an employee meeting that wasn’t “mandatory”, whatever the heck that means, so he still had some further time.

We’re in the middle of talking about our last adventure through time before Bentley has to excuse himself to get some grub in whatever’s underneath his shell, and I think that’s all the best. Gives me a chance to talk about how I overcame my disadvantage on the ice in the dinosaur age by beating Grizz, with a style only The Murray can properly poeticize. I also discuss Penelope’s betrayal, something I think Bentley would not have wanted to talk about or be present for. We would’ve talked about this with McSweeney last night, but Dimitri really, er...took care of him. When our friend left for home, he ended up taking off all the new clothes the guy got for him, saying he liked the breeze on his skin better, but he was also quite happy. Said Mr. Lousteau was a really fun character, and yet he kind of needed some time to readjust before getting into the nitty gritty.

When I finish our gang tale, we go down to the kitchen and heat up leftover pizza. For breakfast. It’s rocking. 

“So, Carmelita…” McSweeney says while eating his first slice of the day, “that’s the policewoman with you yesterday?”

“Yep. She’s quite terrifying, isn’t she?!”

He grins. “While true, I guess there must be something about her that Sly wants to really fight for.” We laugh a little. “I don’t really think I’m up for thieving anymore. It’s something I fell out of term with long ago.” I nod, though my smile lowers a little. That’s kind of an unfun attitude. And yet, what do I know about his situation, really? “But if it meant I could do a heist, the most daring, dangerous, insane heist, and do it with M and Conner just like old times, I’d do it in an instant.” He smiles largely. “Stealing on your own, stealing without family by your side, is just an empty life.”

I rub my fingers a little before I decide to ask something that may or may not be stupid. “But what about your free will to eat what you want?”

McSweeney smirks. “That was one of the big things I had on my mind. As I’m sure you know, it can be expensive to fill the bellies of those like us.” He looks at me and adds wryly, “Chum.” I grin. I don’t think an adult figure has ever treated me like this unless he was scared of me. “I couldn’t find work after the gang fell, and even though I was under a different name with the help of some of M’s old false identity papers, my broken tusk was a dead giveaway.” He rubs it. “I ended up breaking it when I was fighting a gang of gorillas in South Africa. I was trying to take out my grieving over my friends with some violent exercise, and I...pushed more than I could handle. Still smashed quite a few heads that day, and no one else knows about it.” His smile then vanishes. “The few months before I turned myself in, I was in a big depression. Yummy grub didn’t even matter anymore.”

I have a look of absolute horror. I mean, back when I was going through that self-doubt phase in the dinosaur era, my appetite was gone for a few days. To go through that for months with no break...sounds terrible. “Well, Mr. McSweeney,” I say, “you’re back in the Cooper gang!” I put my arm around his shoulders, something only I can do. “Sly’s dad and Dr. M both would not want you to have survivor’s guilt or whatever that is. My master taught me all about how important it is to express love to others when they need it. You have a home.”

McSweeney begins tearing up a bit. Wow, Master’s teachings really were gemstones of the mind.

“By the way,” Bentley adds, “that Branwell Mapperson, what’s the deal with him? Any friend of yours is a friend of ours. Theoretically, anyway.”

“He, um…” McSweeney wipes away two tears and clears his throat. “He had a pretty good life in London somewhere. I don’t think he ever shared exactly where. But he was blamed for burning a woman’s house down. He tells me though that he was set up, and the argument that got him in was he had something really big against the owners of the house. I’ve never seen it, but he talked to me all the time about how that wasn’t the situation. Honestly, he reminded me a bit of Sly right after The Fiendish Five killed Conner and he was all by himself. So I took him under my wing. Felt like something good I could do in prison.”

“That’s noble of you,” I say. “You’re barely a thief, you know. Or, at least, a thief with a real heart of gold.” I realize too late I said that with a bit too much surprise. McSweeney either doesn’t see it that way or has chosen to ignore it.

“I just hope for Branwell’s sake he takes care of himself. Little loser was in college for Political Science.”

Neither of us say anything for a minute. Then Bentley goes, “You would’ve been a great surrogate father for Sly.” He then looks away. “Hopefully we can eventually find him.”