Off to work now, boy?"
Yuh-huh, diggin' the ditches, getting' muddy muddy."
The old woman rocked back in her chair. Physical labor brings you closer to God, boy. Off you go."
Buh-bye," Mouse said, and shuffled back the way he had come, not replacing the hat or returning to his normal gait until well away from her. The roll was soft and warm and delicious. Free made everything taste so much better.

He doubled back two buildings, then cut down an alley. He emerged in a tiny courtyard filled with high weeds and a broken cart, scaring up field mice as he crossed to a rusty drainpipe fixed to the wall of a building on the far side. With one roll clenched in his teeth and the other tucked in the waistband of his hose, Mouse went swiftly hand-over-hand up the pipe, climbing without pause to the flat roof of the four story building. Up here the sky opened up, blue and filled with puffy white clouds tinged with morning pink. Salt air caressed the rooftops, bringing the odor of cooking fires. He ducked under a clothesline of sheets and approached a rooftop shack where a man was serving up handfuls of seeds to cages of cooing pigeons. The man was immensely fat, dressed in cook's whites covered in stains. Even in the cool morning air, sweat beaded up on the man's balding head, trickling over plump cheeks. He spied the rogue's approach.
Ah, bon journo, Mouse. A fine morning, no?"
Mouse frowned. We'll see in a minute. It's Wednesday." He tossed the extra roll to the other man, who sniffed it, smiled and tucked it into his shirt for later.
Wednesday, so it is," said the fat cook. He scattered more seed for the pigeons and said nothing else.
Mouse crossed his arms and tapped a foot. And?"
The cook raised his eyebrows in apparent innocence. And what?"
The rogue bared his teeth. Do we have to do this every time, fat man? The loan was fifty, the vig is three points, that's three gold every other day. I was just here Monday. I'm here every two days. Do you think I have nothing better to do?"

The cook folded his fingers together on his considerable belly. Mouse, Mouse, no need to become upset. It's only that I've fallen upon hard times…"

The rogue immediately tuned out. He had heard this line from every fish who had ever borrowed so much as a green copper. It was just wordless buzzing to him at this point, and he found himself slowly munching his roll as he watched a bumblebee loaf through the air around the pigeon shack.
…and he expected me to pay for it, as if a burned roast was my fault…"
The bumblebee lazily circled the fat man's head. They were so slow and ungainly. How did they stay in the air? They should just drop right out of it.
…well the rent came due, and I'm in no condition to live on the street…"
The bee landed unnoticed on the other man's slab-like shoulder and crawled towards his chest. Mouse wondered if fatty got stung, would cream ooze from the wound?
…but he can't find work, and he's my wife's only brother…"
The bee lost interest and flew away. Mouse blinked and held up a hand to stop the cook's buzzing. Three gold, fat man." He pitched the remains of the roll onto the roof, where it was immediately snatched up by a crow.
The cook hung his head and whispered, I…I just don't have it."
Mouse sighed and pulled one of the daggers from his sleeve, holding it so the morning sun caught the blade and reflected into the cook's face. Three, fat man, or I'll let the wind out of you."
The cook pursed his thick lips for a moment, then hitched up his belly with one hand, revealing a previously hidden pouch. He dug into it and produced three, slightly sticky gold coins, handing them over. Mouse bit them, then did his sleight of hand trick, making them seem to disappear in the air while the cook watched in amazement.
That's some trick. You sure you're not a wizard?"
Mouse sheathed the dagger. Yeah, sure. My best spell is, ‘The fat man doesn't pay his vig, and abra-cadabra, he ends up floating face down by the docks.' See you Friday." Before the cook could start to protest again, Mouse was through the hanging sheets and back over the side of the building, descending the drain pipe once more. The fat man was a nice, steady source of income, despite the fact that he was a pain in the ass to listen to. At least Mouse knew where to find him for collections, and he always paid, regardless of his stories.