He laughs, but it's a private thing. The idea of someone having faith in him feels less and less believable some days. Unless Alex asks, he won't clarify that point.

The way she looks at him, it's like she probably knows.

"Where the fuck to start?" he asks, the question directed at the ceiling. "The city steals you here and some weird-ass no-name agency gives you rent money and an address. That's just starters. Everything else. Shit. I don't know sometimes."