At least it sounded as though he had a brother and sister-in-law looking out for him. Aslan held up a hand when Menachem insisted on helping him.

“I appreciate your offer, Menachem, but you don’t owe me.”

Allah Allah, he could have lost a bet fair and square, and Aslan would have told him the same. Especially on those crutches. He’d never outrun her on those crutches.

He let out a laugh and shrugged his arms out.

“I might take you up on that if I’m in the area.”

Which was surprisingly not impossible – especially if Witaker actually took him on.

What he’d intended as poking his nose into surface business that wasn’t his turned into a lot more business that wasn’t his. He wasn’t about to complain.

Was Aslan the one who inspired him to get on the straight and narrow, or was it just talk? He’d have advised him not to get caught rather than stop committing crime if he really wanted to know how to get by without familial nor professional supports – or even with some of those.

Maybe Menachem had found a better way after all. He certainly didn’t feel good about the way he lived.

“They’re wrong to not support you,” Aslan said, resolutely.