His companion did not look convinced. They waited some more. It became colder, with a chill mist swirling around their feet. Nigel scowled. He was going to get the grippe if this lasted much longer.

“What if he done a bunk out the back?” he said.

“He hasn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“’Cause that’s him—right there.”

Nigel turned back toward the pub and sure enough, there he was. A streetlight shone on the man’s blond head before he pulled a cap over it, and briefly highlighted his face. “You know, he’s shorter than I thought—”

“Shut it and come on.”

They slipped out of the small alley they’d been using as a vantage point and fell in behind the man and the pretty brunette in a scandalously low-cut, bright red dress, who was hanging off of his arm. They kept their distance, staying back far enough that the increasingly dense fog half hid the couple, swirling up as far as their waists sometimes, making it look as if they were floating. Nigel felt a bit like he was floating, too, not being able to see his boots at all anymore. It made him clumsy, and he tripped over something, just as their prey looked back over his shoulder.

He suddenly found himself shoved into a wall—by Ronald. “Don’t stagger into me, you old drunk!” the small man snarled.

“I’m not drunk!” Nigel said indignantly. “Haven’t had a drink all night—”

“I can smell it on your breath. You’re completely blotto, you are. Don’t lie—”

“I’m not lyin’! And watch who yer callin’ old.”

Their prey turned back around, and the couple kept walking, until the fog swallowed them up. Yet Ronald kept berating him about his bad habits and his poor old mother and what a disappointment he was to the family. Which was news to Nigel, who didn’t have a family.

The small man suddenly broke off, cocked his head and cursed. “That’s all we need!”

“Wot’s that, then?” Nigel asked, confused.

“Someone’s about to beat us to the punch. Leg it!”

Nigel had no idea what the man was on about. Ronald had just come back from an extended trip to America, which was why they hadn’t worked together before, and he seemed to have picked up some very odd jargon. But when he took off down the road, Nigel followed.

He did it quietly, despite the fact that the close packed buildings in the area concentrated the fog. But his keen sense of smell allowed him to avoid noisy piles of garbage and kept him on the straight and narrow thanks to the rotting stench of the gutter beside the street. But his companion didn’t seem to have that advantage. Nigel could hear him up ahead knocking into a fence, bouncing off a lamppost, and then tripping over a cat.