Had the man been shouting or laughing at him, James would have toughened himself. But it was the man crouching down and showing concern that finally made the tears come and sting his eyes. His lip trembled. But he quickly wiped his face. "We don't go to the doctor," he explained.

Though he knew that he kind of basically asked for this, the boy's crying made Anthony tense up a little. Shit, what is he supposed to do with this crying child? It's not like he knows how to comfort a kid or something. "You don't?" he asked, almost instinctively. "Alright–that's...okay. Well, that's not very good. Do you.......want to go to the doctor, then?" Were there even any doctors in this place? He wouldn't know, it's not as if he'd been to one...

James shook his head quickly. "Da says they're frauds an' they'll put t' disease into your body so they can charge ye and that's why we don't go. And I don't want to die." He explained. The man seemed quite willing to help though, and so James decided to push his luck. "But they say food strengthens the body..."

"Well, I can't say whether that's true or not," he shrugged. But he'd heard of plenty of people who had gone to a doctor and left just fine? Whatever. He didn't dwell on the thoughts. "Do..........you want something to eat, then?" Anthony asked, a bit sheepishly, a bit too empathetic right now to understand that the kid just wants a free bellyful of food. Perhaps in another circumstance he would have already have walked away, but.....his conscience was nagging at him and his parental instincts kicked in. He didn't even know he had parental instincts.

James nodded, trying to give the man puppy eyes again, probably with the same effect as earlier. He was objectively hungry though. He had not eaten since morning, for when he had come home, father had been shouting at mother, and Claude wasn't around to look after him, and he had run out again. He didn't like being home when Claude wasn't there.

"Well, uh, let's get you some food then," Anthony smiled. If only he knew where to get food. Well, he DID know, but he was basically in panic mode right now and forgot everything he had ever known. "can you walk? Your leg's still........not looking good." He did not want to carry the kid in his arms but god knows that if he asked he'd still do it.

James got up again. His ankle was thick and purple. He tried to put weight on it, but stopped, for it hurt. "No..." he muttered.

Anthony clicked his tongue. "Well," he said. "that sucks." He can't in his right mind just leave the kid here! And he has no idea as to what to do now. Actually, he has one idea, but he doesn't necessarily like it very much. At all, actually.

.....

"So what do we do?"

James frowned. He was stuck here. And hungry. And in pain. And cold. For a moment, his heart sank and his lip quivered again. Then he looked up at the man. "Can I come home with you? Please? Ye can carry me. And I can make ye breakfast. I know how to make porridge."

Even though he felt very sympathetic towards the kid's plight, the idea of the kid making him breakfast was one that he would've almost laughed at. "My home isn't very nice," he said. "but if you want to, then........okay, I guess." Anthony flashed a brief smile. What is he supposed to do with the kid once he gets home? He doesn't know how to treat a fucked up ankle, he doesn't know how to care for kids, he doesn't know anything really.

"Well, anyways," he sighed, shifting a bit in his spot. "up you go, then." Leaning forward a bit, he picked up the kid. Because he has never once in his life held a kid, or anyone really, like this, it was probably vastly uncomfortable for both him and the boy. Was the kid heavy as fuck or was Anthony just a weakling? We may never know. He just stood there for a moment, holding a Child, taking a bit of time to process the whole situation because honestly, what the fuck?