Andrew merely shook his head at the man, saying nothing as he watched him leave. Good riddance to the man. He rolled his eyes when the man turned his back to do so. To the boy, he sighed and nodded. "I've got plenty. 'Ere, have a pastie," he said and handed the meat-and-potato-and-gravy-filled hand pie over. It was made with sage and a touch of rosemary, salted but not too salty, and peppered. The crust was egg washed to make for a glossy, golden sheen on the pastry, which was pinched to perfection at the edges and steam still rose from the three holes cut into the crust in order to keep it from being soggy. He then nodded toward the bucket of boiled and cooled water and the ladle that was hanging from the rim. "Help yerself to the water," he moved to lock the door and flip the closed sign for the moment.

"Now... I was like ye when I was a kid. Me parents both died when I was a boy. I took to the streets. I used ta try and steal me next vittles wherever and whenever I could. But then I got caught by a baker, rummagin' through his bin and even tryin' ta sneak a pastry from his shop. He gave me a chance ta do better for meself, and I wanna do the same for ye. I ain't gonna ask ye if ye stole that wallet, but I don't agree wit' thievin' anymore and would appreciate it if ye didn't, and if ye decide ye want ta be me apprentice, ye must earn yer keep. Ye can live in the apartment above the shop, twas mine affore I married. Ye'll have ta meet me Missus too." To at least assure her that this time it was a lad and there was nothing for her to worry about in that regard. He had learned his lesson about offering apprenticeship to a lass. Rose did not like that one bit.

He sighed, hunkered down and grabbed his lunch. He opened it up to see what it was and gulped. Well. Down the hatch.