Tristan's frown remained as he put his pencil down and closed his notebook. "Well, Mr. Rowe," he said in an irritated voice, not gracing the delinquent with a look. "I can happily report that you do not belong in an asylum. Prison will do."

Oh, shit. That's not what he had been expecting. Anthony winced, and averted his gaze for a moment. "Why? I haven't done anything wrong."

Tristan began to put his things away. "For stealing and other misconduct, probably. It's for the constable and magistrates to decide now. My work is done." He closed his briefcase.

"What? No, it isn't!" Anthony whimpered. Maybe he should've acted a bit more insane. Then he would've at least been headed for an asylum, not a prison. "If I end up in prison I'm going to kill myself."

Tristan got up. "That would be a waste. Can't imagine you'd be in forever for petty theft."

Anthony started crying. Partly because he just wanted to coax some sympathy out of the man, and partly because he was feeling terrible. "And now I'm going to do it just because you said that!" He was not beyond petty manipulation, and this showed that.

What?...

He sat back down. "Do you often threaten to kill yourself?"

Wait, it actually worked? He wasn't expecting that. "No!" he huffed, still quite mad at the man.

"Right..." he said, frowning again. "But you'd kill yourself at the prospect of a few months in prison?"

"Yes," he nodded, without missing a beat.