A couple of kids in the streets of Darktown, just two warm bodies repurposed by the Carta to do the rough work, to thrive or die for the family, and the family's bottom line. Two young scamps without any manners who'd have been no match for six drunk Marchers looking to rough up some dwarf kids before their shit ale and gin worked its way out of their systems--

It had felt good to put them face down in the dirt and teach them a thing or two about backing the fuck off. He hadn't even needed to use either of the axes that he'd carried with him since he was about the age of those two boys, if not younger--

Kit stares back at Yngvi in dumbfounded silence, the slow light of recognition kindling in his eyes.

"...you got taller," is his stupid response, along with a hesitant, wondering sort of smile. He shakes his head in disbelief, reaches for his cigarette.