After just barely catching the kid before he hit the floor, Tris walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom Divi woke up in.

Once changing him out of the bloodied clothes, he cleaned the rest of the blood from his face before tucking the unconscious child back into the bed.

As Tris made sure the bleeding has stopped, he remained standing next to the bed, looking at the now oddly peaceful expression adorning Divi's face.

Tris was used to people being afraid of him, and wondered if it's a note-worthy reaction, or is it just another normal reaction shared by anyone who'd ever encounter a faceless man.

And what about his sudden collapse?

Could it have been from the shock? Blood loss? Undernourishment?

Not moving his head, Tris reached into his red coat and pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook. The cover was dark-brown with no writings or decorations. The inside was plainly ruled inside, with only a few rows of anonymously written instructions at the beginning. He remembered finding it in the kid's jacket the first time they came across him.

Tris turned around and walked out of the room after confirming the bleeding has ceased, turning the little notebook in his hands to find its beginning, reading again through the odd instructions:

“I cannot tell you who I am, or who is the boy carrying this book.

Rest assured that I know who you and your associate are, and what you are – a couple of runaway circus acts.

I have but one request – you are to document the behavioral patterns of the child and any deviation from it.

The information you gather is for you alone to hold. Keep it to yourself and away from your partner.”

Tris flipped a couple of pages forward, reading through what he had already written.

He decided to write everything down in order to establish some basis for comparison in the behavior of the mysterious child.

So far he only observed him in his sleep – or rather, in his state of unconsciousness.

During that time, Divi would be tossing and turning every once in a while, mumbling incoherent obscurities that Tris could make nothing of. He tried writing down every word or sentence fragment he managed to understand, noticing that most of Divi's sleep talk revolved around trees.

Trees and worms.

The faceless man looked over at the stuffed teddy-bear toppled over on the floor, assuming it fell from the bed at some point.

He didn't know why this inanimate object drew his attention all of a sudden, but decided to ignore it at the moment, looking back at the little journal and pulling a pen out of the inside of his coat and jotting sown his recent findings.

“The boy shows fear of the unfamiliar setting and of the unknown in general. The reaction appears natural.”

“Some fears are quickly replaced by curiosity.”

“The boy injured his nose as a result from falling on the floor when trying to run away. I will be monitoring the recovery process. The exact amount of damage is unclear, the nose was bleeding with no external injury or deformities.”

Tris closed the journal and turned to walk out of the room, looking over his shoulder one more time.

The kid's breathing sounded slow and steady, indicating he's sleeping peacefully.

That was probably a good thing.

He hoped it was.

The door closed with a faint click, and Tris walked over to the dusty living room. The furniture displayed clear signs of aging, varying from wither and even slight decay to other living things feeding off the different materials.

He remained standing there, seemingly staring into thing air, his thoughts drifting on.

Every day since he found that kid he wondered about the mysterious journal he found in the folds of his clothes, and about the anonymous inquirer.

Why would someone be so interested in the well-being and development of this child?

A parent? Legal guardian?

And if so, why would they go to such great length to stay anonymous?

Or why even ask him to collect that information if he would he be obliged to keep it to himself?

How did they even know about his “partner”?

“Hey, freak.”

As if on cue, the door was opened and slammed shut, pulling Tris out of his thoughts.

A man that appeared to be nearing his 30's walked in, taking off a worn-out derby hat to reveal a charcoal-black hair with streaks of red around the tips, and bangs almost covering his eyes.

He wore a double-layered jacket in a faded-red color and a gray shirt underneath, and a pair of dark pants, segmented just below the knees and heavy, lace-less, steel-toed boots.

His hands and all of his clothes, his jacket, in particular, were covered with ash-stains and a little bit of burn marks.

“Good afternoon Vince.” Tris replied as the man walked over towards him. “I'm glad to see you didn't catch fire this time.”

“Yeah, right.” Vince huffed and threw himself on the decrepit couch, raising a cloud of dust to the air. “You know, I can't even tell if you're being sarcastic or not!”

“Why would I be sarcastic.”

“I don't know!”

“So there's your answer.”

Vince grunted and ran his fingered through his hair, giving for brief second a clear glimpse of his golden-brown eyes.

“Hey, did you find a good spot to dig a grave?” he tilted his head towards his faceless roommate.

“He woke up.”

Vince turned around, surprised. “Did he? I figured that after a week of being unconscious he was as good as dead.” a malicious grin replaced his bewildered expression. “Imagine what would've happened if we were to bury him alive.”

“I hope you didn't invest in a shovel yet.” Tris decided to avoid the subject.

The golden-eyes man burst into laughter. “You think?! I'd be digging that grave with my own two hands!”

“You seem overly excited about burying the kid. Maybe you should consider a job as a mortician.”

“So I can have a good reason to stuff him into a coffin?”

“Enough.”

“I would've done this anyway, a rotting corpse will smell really bad if you don't-”

“Vince.”

The laughing man fell silent and looked at the statuesque person.

The monotonous voice didn't change and the expressionless facade didn't break.

But something in it sent tremors down Vince's spine.

“Fine, fine.” He sighed and leaned his head back. “Come on, you know I was just joking!”

“It didn't sound like that.”

“Who're you to preach about how things sound?” Vince muttered and got up from the couch, patting the dust off his clothes as he approached Tris again. “So, who's the kid?”

“Divi.”

“What's a Divi?”

“The kid.”

“I figured that much!” he growled. “But what kind of name is that?”

“What is 'Vince'.”

“I don-” Vince went silent again, his face twisted in anger. “Who is he?”

“I doubt that he knows that himself.” Tris shrugged. “But I didn't really get a good chance to chat.”

“Didn't you say he was awake?”

“I did.” he nodded. “But just enough to slip and hit his nose. He lost consciousness again.”

“Lovely.”

“He did seem excited when I told him you're a fire-breather.”

“You what?!” Vince rolled his eyes and turned his back to Tris, pulling at his own hair. “Why did you tell him?”

“He's curious.”

“Now there's going to be a little brat here running around asking me to do an impression of a dragon!” Vince turned back around, eyes flaring. “I'm having enough of this as it is, while getting paid with peanuts by shady ringmasters!”

“I don't think he knows what a dragon is.”

“You know very well that's not the point!” Vince fumed, looking like he might really start breathing fire at any minute.

“He's also scared.”

Vince stared in silence, trying to figure out why was this information relevant to him. “So you're saying that if I'll threaten him, he'll leave me alone?”

“Yes and no.”

“...Explain.”

“He's most likely to back off and not chase you pleading. But he won't stop hoping for a demonstration.”

A smirk crept back to Vince's face, revealing his teeth again. “So I'll make sure he'll be very scared. Maybe if I'll threaten to burn him-”

“Vince.”

The fire-breather fell silent again and ran his hand over his face.

Tris tried to suggest an alternative. “Why don't you just give him a single demonstration. It's highly likely that he'll leave you alone after one time.”

“And if he won't?”

“We'll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Aren't you just the wise-old-man?” Vince gritted his teeth and walked past Tris, walking to the far-most room in the hall connected to the living room. “Whatever, I'll see if I have lighter-fluid...This better be a one-time thing, or I'm testing a new routine on you!”

Tris just waved at Vince as he entered the room and slammed the door behind him.

Nothing out of the ordinary just yet.