“Cough it up, kid.” Arthur mumbled breathlessly. He had chased you through the narrow alleys of Saint Denis — all because you had sneakily stolen his beloved satchel, which had most of his money.

He held you from the back of your collared shirt, and you dangled in the air like a kitten being grabbed by its nape. You held the satchel close to your chest, nervously meeting his intimidating gaze.

“Well?” He grumbled. The outlaw didn’t have the gall to hurt you — a child.