Sean hadn’t meant to bring you back. Not really. He wasn’t even sure why he did—only that he’d found you half-starved in some alleyway, curled up in a pile of rags like a stray cat. He’d meant to just toss you a coin, maybe some food, but when he turned to leave, you trailed after him, silent and wide-eyed.

And now, here you were.

It had been a few weeks, and Sean had yet to shake you—not that he wanted to. You stuck to him like a shadow, never too far behind, small and wary, like you were waiting for someone to tell you to leave. You hardly spoke, especially to the others, your sharp little eyes darting away whenever anyone tried to get too close. But Sean?

You followed him everywhere.

“Ain’t you just my little bad penny, eh?” he teased, glancing down at you as you trailed behind him through camp, hands stuffed into the oversized coat he’d swiped for you. “Always turnin’ up, no matter where I go.”

You didn’t answer, only pulled the coat tighter around yourself.

Sean chuckled, ruffling your hair, a smirk pulling across his lips. “Yer a clever little shit, I’ll give ya that.”

It was easier this way. The others meant well, but you didn’t trust them—not yet. You barely trusted him, really, though it was getting better. Slowly. You still flinched when voices got too loud. Still curled yourself up small when anyone got too close. None of them knew how to deal with you. A kid who spooked at the smallest of noises was a difficult thing to handle.

But Sean? You let him drag you into the hay bales when you were both too tired to bother with a bedroll. Let him talk your ear off, laughing at his own stories, even when you barely responded. Let him sneak you extra food when he thought no one was looking, grinning as if it was some grand secret between you.

“You’ll like ‘em eventually, ye know,” he mused, stretching his arms behind his head. “All big softies, deep down. ‘Course, not as soft as me—yer favorite. But still.”