Lechance

Simon was on the front porch of the apothecary again, this time with a book open on one knee and a notepad in the other, writing notes now and then as he turned pages. He was still puzzling over whether or not he thought they'd come up with the best sorts of bait for...whatever sort of menace was composed of gears and metal joints.

"Do you suppose," he asked when a shadow fell over the page, "that a mechanical creature eats the way any other does?"