Stab withdraws his hand back under the coat, hiding once more.

“Why?” Scout asks. He hugs his knees close to his chest and finally glances at Achilles. His eyes are big and confused. “Why did you? Did they hurt you? Or did you want their stuff? And why bring Lamb?”

Scout sucks nervously on the cigarette. He coughs, covering his mouth, but he still clings to it like a pacifier. Where Gravroche sees violence and war as a world of good and evil, where the brave are separated from the cowards, Scout just sees it as frightening confusion. Just picking a group of people it’s okay to hurt, and hurting them and telling yourself you’re good for doing it.

“What was the point?” Scout manages, eyes growing wet and voice tight.