Oh? Oh! The man actually said something. For the first time in forever, it seemed. Anthony stopped sobbing as if on cue. "Well," he sniffled a bit, "there was nothing else for me to do." Another very failed attempt at defending himself.

Charles looked at the man with a skeptical frown. "That's nonsense."

Anthony was...somewhat offended. "No, it isn't. Why would it be 'nonsense'?"

Charles folded his arms and looked at the younger man with a stern expression. "You could get a job and work for your money like an honest person."

He frowned. That's the thing he's been trying to avoid. "Well, I could," he said, stretching out the word, "but I don't want to, and neither does anyone want to hire me."

Charles was unimpressed. "If nobody wanted to hire you and you were destitute you could have come to the workhouse."

He kind of understood why nobody wanted to hire this guy.

Anthony stayed silent for a moment and leaned back in his seat, as if considering his words. "Hmm. Well, I don't want to."

Charles shrugged. "Jail it is." He unfolded his arms, clutched his hands behind his back and began to pace again.

"Hm. Maybe. Asylum's more likely," Anthony shrugged his shoulders. This man was a terrible bore.

Charles stopped walking and quirked a brow at the man. He had a point. "Fair enough..." Although he had a few folk in the workhouse whom he really believed belonged in the asylum. Still, they wouldn't normally dump the criminally insane there, and he would certainly rather see this man in an asylum than under his care. He began to pace again, resisting the urge to check his pocket watch.