Ben was selective. Did they look like drunks? Then he wouldn't give them anything. If they looked like they had just suffered misfortune, he tried to do what he can. This man seemed to belong to the latter category. He looked rough, but didn't smell of alcohol. He spoke like a sober man. There was the slightest hint of something foreign in his accent. Ben dug down into his pocket and fished out a penny. "It ain't much, ser, but I've got me own to feed," he said, handing it to the young man.