George didn't reply, looking at the young man, dirty as he was there was something, perhaps some glimmer of honesty, or perhaps it was the glinting eyes of the truly mad. "What's your name?" He asked, deciding that was the better route to go down.
He had not, in truth, intended to go home that evening, but take supper somewhere and then go straight to the Council, and after that head home, or wherever the Council required him to go to put this whole sorry business to bed.