Fortunately, she’d spent time around Wayne and his occasional colorful metaphors. Blushes would happen. She pressed onward. “He came shooting through here less than an hour ago. Wounded, trailing blood, wearing red. I’m sure you know who I’m speaking of.”

“Yeah, the man of hours!” one of the boys said, laughing and referencing a figure from old nursemaid tales. “I know him!”

Treat them like a belligerent witness, she thought. At a trial. Keep them talking. She needed to learn how to deal with people like these boys in the real world, not just in sterile practice rooms.

“Yes, the man of hours,” Marasi said. “Where did he go?”

“To the edge of dusk,” the boy said. “Haven’t you heard the stories?”

“I’m fond of stories,” Marasi said, slipping a few coins from her pocketbook. She held them up. Bribery felt like cheating, but… well, she wasn’t in court.

The three boys eyed the coins, a sudden hunger flashing in their eyes. They covered it quickly, but perhaps showing off money in this place wasn’t terribly wise.

“Let’s hear a story,” Marasi said. “About where this… man of hours might be staying. The location of dusk, if you will. Here in these tenements.”

“We might know that,” one of the boys said. “Though, you know, stories cost a lot. More than that.”

Behind her, something clinked. Waxillium had gotten out a few coins too. The boys glanced at those, eager, until Waxillium flipped one up into the air and Pushed until it was lost.

The boys grew quiet immediately.

“Talk to the lady,” Waxillium said softly, with an edge to his voice. “Stop wasting our time.”

Marasi turned to him, and behind her the boys made their decision. They scattered, obviously not wanting to deal with an Allomancer.

“That was very helpful,” Marasi said, folding her arms. “Thank you so much.”

“They were going to lie to you,” Waxillium said, glancing over his shoulder. “And we were drawing the wrong kind of attention.”

“I realize they were going to lie,” Marasi said. “I was going to catch them in it. Attacking someone’s false story is often one of the best methods of interrogation.”

“Actually,” Waxillium said, “the best method of interrogation involves a drawer and someone’s fingers.”

“Actually,” Marasi said, “it does not. Studies show that forced interrogation results in bad information almost all the time. Anyway, what is wrong with you today, Waxillium? I realize you’ve been flaunting your ‘tough Roughs lawman’ persona lately—”

“I have not.”

“You have,” she said. “And I can see why. Out in the Roughs, you acted the gentleman lawman. You yourself told me you clung to civilization, to bring it with you. Well, here you’re around lords all the time. You’re practically drowning in civilization. So instead, you lean on being the Roughs lawman—to bring a little old-fashioned justice to the city.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” he said, turned away from her, scanning the street.

Rust and Ruin. He thought she was infatuated with him. Arrogant, brutish… idiot! She puffed out and stalked away.