Again, Rat was struck by that unfair sense that he knew more that Marius did. In some, or many, universes Marius was a creature of fiction. In this one, no one could even say for sure what they were. The thought that he might be fictional himself was too troubling to consider. "Maybe some good Samaritan came to your rescue," Rat said, shrugging. Certainly, Jean Valjean hadn't been the one to heft Marius up and carry him safely away for the sake of his daughter's love.

"Bullet wounds hurt like hell," he agreed, not quite aware of the fact that he'd admitted it out loud. Marius had seen his scars, though he'd only asked about the puffy, swollen keloids that would forever mar his back.

He set the cane down, remembering he'd been asked a question and still catching the blush on Marius' cheeks. "With milk," he said at last. "Don't worry, it takes more than coffee to persuade me to take someone's virtue."