[At ease, tiny Parker. Richie's all talk, and he spent too much of his childhood with busted glasses and boxed ears to ever lay a hand on someone who never deserved it.

He loses steam anyway, watching the kid get twitchy under the barrage of shit he's slung at him. He's probably wanting a smoke as bad as he wants a sandwich, and there's no one to blame but his dumb self for that.]

Hungry, huh? I'll bet. I was a tornado at the table when I was your age. [Not that it helped him any. He's five-nine with a broom handle frame. He frowns.] You sure? Here, I'll...

[One hand dips into his pocket. He's only got a pittance on hand but it should be enough for both their fares. Richie glances askance, unsure if even passing the kid money would be seen as some horrific infraction. He keeps the move subtle and quick, patting the coins into the boy's palm and whipping his hand back. No harm no foul.] Take it, it oughtta cover everything. I'll show you the way, just don't say it's from me. I'll wait outside.