After warming himself for a few minutes, Finch motioned to the barkeep for some food. He didn't care what it was, as long as it was hot. He also ordered a bowl for Eve, not wanting his new charge to go hungry. Finch refused to look in Eve's direction, too embarrassed by his adverse reaction to the rain to say anything just yet. The food couldn't come fast enough, and when it was finally brought over, he wrapped his hands around the hot metal bowl and cradled it close to his chest. It was burning him a bit, but he didn't want to let go of it.

He had only taken one bite when the door to the place swung open, letting in a burst of cold air that nearly had Finch leaping into the fireplace. He shuddered and hunched over his bowl, glancing back to see the newcomer. It was the young slave girl from the day before, threadbare socks wet and clinging to her little feet. She had a small box in her hands that she carried to the barkeep, and he handed over a few bottles of whiskey in exchange. As she gathered the alcohol and turned to leave, the girl noticed Finch watching her and her face brightened.

The girl padded over and hesitated a moment before quietly murmuring, "Hello, sir. Thank you for yesterday." She motioned to the socks on her feet, as if Finch might have forgotten. Standing there before him, dripping wet and shivering from the cold rain, she could have been anywhere between ten to fifteen. She looked wretched and miserable, but there was still a glimmer of happiness that someone had spared her half a thought.

"You don't have to thank me, kiddo. Just watch where you're walking, because those socks won't hold up well on sharp stones," Finch replied with a shrug. The girl nodded as if he were imparting some great wisdom, then made to turn and leave. "Wait. Set those bottles down a second." She did and turned back to give him a perplexed look. Finch scraped up a large spoonful of the hot stew in his bowl and held it out to her. He had a warm fire to sit by, and she was about to go back into the cold. With wide eyes, she took the spoon in her trembling fingers and took the bite. She looked like she was about to cry. Finch took back the spoon, scraped up some more of the stew, and gave it to her again. He did this two more times, then dropped the spoon into his half-empty bowl and said, "Go on now, before your master gets grouchy about waiting."

Finch turned away from her, and he felt rather than saw her hesitate before jumping forward to hug him. He gasped at the cold but forced himself to reach up and pat her head. "Go on, you little monkey. Get moving," he chattered, and she grabbed her bottles and rushed out of the tavern, leaving Finch feeling just a bit better about the day.