He nodded to the officer and stepped out. The baker then turned to the man with the wallet and he said, "Aye, there's been a misunderstandin' is all..." He absently reached for his lunch, the one that his wife may or may not have packed. He curled his lips in defiance at eating the fare, thought about giving it to the lad for him to eat but decided against it. He had a hard enough time eating the food she made, but he politely did so in front of her when presented with whatever concoction she had come up with, dutifully swallowing half-raw, half-burnt chicken or some kind of meat and enduring the worst of side effects as quietly as he could possibly get away with. And he wasn't about to subject that poor boy to that torture. Instead, he waited until all the customers had cleared before taking a freshly baked sticky bun to the kid.

"Ey, ye look like ye're about to eat me arm off, lad. Eat somethin'." He offered the treat. "And then we'll talk." As for the man who was disrupting things, he moved closer to that one and said, "I dunno what ye think ye're about, but I didn't see no pickpocketin'. Leave 'im be." He crossed his arms over his chest.