Mickey shook his head. "No one here by that name." That he'd seen at least and the last person talking had been the cranky old man who lived in the trailer that Mickey was repairing. Otherwise it was just him.
When the boy stood though he leaned forward, one hand out, seeing how he struggled. "You're hurt." It wasn't even a question. It was just obvious. The tiny things was hurt, limbs that didn't work right, too weak to hold himself upright when he needed to.