The stench of the Roaring Boys hangs heavy around John long after the gang of beggars are gone from sight. It is a while before he can breathe again. They are in another street, still crowded and overflowing with rubbish, but with stones underfoot rather than rough earth.

The flame haired boy speaks constantly without seeming to need any reply. John lets the words flow around him, fluffy little clouds that tickle his ears and shelter him from the fury of the city. He gathers that they are heading towards a tavern where there’ll be drink and food, but he doesn’t bother trying to work out any of the other meanings.

John’s mind is too abuzz with his own thoughts. Why is this stranger looking after him and guiding him through this monstrous city, when John’s own Da could barely stand the sight of him? Is it just gratitude for the kiss? Yet something in the beating of John’s heart makes him feel like it is him feeling gratitude for the kiss, not the other way around. What would this grinning boy do if he knew John isn’t a girl?

At this moment a girl with dark wild hair like Jetta dances by. John opens his mouth, ready to call, ‘Jetta, it’s me! I’m wearing breeches! I’ve been kissed! Do I look different?’ But it can’t be her - and he will never say those things. Instead, he says to the boy beside him. ‘Are you ever going to give my clothes back?’ John gazes down at the bundle of Jetta’s clothes this seemingly friendly boy is still holding

The boy stops mid-sentence, and turns fully to John. ‘That’s a serious question, now, and I’ll answer you likewise.’ He blows air upwards. ‘I aim to. There’s no denying, I am a natural thief, but I’ve no wish to steal from you who saved me.’

‘Should I believe you?’

The boy uncrooks his arm from John’s. John’s arm stays in the air, linked to an invisible person for a moment before he lets it drop to his side.

Then the boy slips his hand around John’s waist and pulls him close. ‘Fair One, if you’re going to survive a day in this city, never trust anyone.’ He leans in, his mouth next to John’s ear. ‘Especially not me.’

John’s whole body tingles at the heat of the boy’s breath. John has heard the words, but is barely aware of them. And right then, the hobgoblin appears, perches on the other boy’s shoulder grinning its biggest grin. Its hair and eyes are the exact shade of the stranger’s.

John makes a sound at the back of his throat, a mewl of pure relief. ‘Oh, I know I can trust you now!’ His cheeks redden - he hasn’t meant to speak that thought aloud.

For the first time since they’ve met, there is no hint of a smile on the other boy’s face. His mouth is a straight line. Finally, he nods. Then he turns from John and walks on, chattering away as if there’s been no interruption.