[Stray]
The boy exhaled, long and harrowed, as he finally straightened up to view his work. His lettering was a little sloppy; 'FINE WARES AND EXOTIC ITEMS FOR SALE'. The paint was thin, and cheap. It would need a second, perhaps third coat... A drip from his brush plipped into the bucket of paint, a tiny sound nearly lost among the increasing crowd. It seemed setting up early was no safe haven from the press of festival-goers, nor was it much reprieve from the incredible heat of the sun.
Stray licked his lips, dry, and gazed off longingly towards an open tent where drinks were being sold, filled to the rim with ice chunks and fruit.
Thievery would be too difficult, in this sparse, but noisy crowd. That, and all of his hanging out around his self proclaimed guardian had grown him a healthy conscience to contrast the older bandit's schemes. He was an honest worker, for all intents and purposes today. He hadn't stolen the goods they were selling. Shyster had.
Plus, getting caught for stealing a fruity drink was a pretty piss-poor reason to get thrown out of the festival. He pulled his hat off and slicked back his wild mess of dark hair, then hurriedly replaced it on his head.