21

One idle afternoon you're on the streets of Hondelet, chirping through a bit of Moonlight on Mailey's Pond as you and Brute share fresh currants from the marketplace.

"A fine sound!" a drunk hails you, down on his belly on the street. You slow as he throws something in your direction; Brute pounces on it with gusto. It's a leather cap, scuffed and abraded but decently made.

"Put out the hat as you caterwaul and see if you can get some coin; and if you do, remember your friends, eh?" He is either winking at you or stricken with a bout of palsy.