James crossed his arms as well. "What kind of people like poetry?"

"A lot of people," she said. "there is no special kind of person that likes poetry. Anyone can like it."

"Oh." He shut up at last and went back to biting his thumb.

The relief she felt as soon as the questions ended was indescribable. "...Yeah." She looked around the room, awkwardly.

He was quiet for a moment, but not for long: "Because I protected you from that man, you have to buy me food."

She wasn't sure if she preferred the questions over this, or not. "Don't your parents or brother or whomever feed you?"

"If there's food..." he said.

Saoirse frowned. That absolutely convinced her to buy this kid something to eat. "What do you like to eat?"

"Anything..." the child said. "But no vegetables." He beamed up at her.

"Well, I guess I can buy you something, then," she said.