"Lost, Weatherby?" Fred had finished his pasty while he was waiting for his brother to come out of the shop. He'd almost just left, he didn't want to get into a yelling match in the middle of the street with his brother anymore than anyone else... well, that was a lie, because he wouldn't mind, but he still knew it wasn't the thing to want to do. In the end, though, he'd stayed. Why? He wasn't sure.