Gon

The rain beats hard against the broken windowpane as he leans against the brick wall, his gloved fingers brushing the worn strap of a pocket watch. His coat is soaked, but his eyes never leave the door across the street. "You're late," he says, pulling away from the wall. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind. And even if you had... well, let's just say none of us can afford it right now. Can you?"