His captor squats nearby, hunched forward, hiding something from sight. The Vagrant pushes up onto his elbows, looks about. The ledge appears much like the one he recently rested on. He and the Hammer are alone. There is no sign or sound of Vesper or Harm or even the goat. He closes his eyes, covering his face with quick hands to hide the trembling. Three slow breaths come and go, then hands lower, revealing features firm, resigned.
