[ Her words, unexpected, hit him like blows. He can't help himself from balling his fists, faces flashing in front of his mind's eye as he watches the rain fall sideways outside the window. ]

Yeah, I did. More'n one.

[ He turns and walks slowly across the room to an armchair, threadbare and covered in oily dust. Drops into it and wipes more blood from his face. ]

Kid. I need your knife.