Page 17 of Brick’s Anchor

"She noticed you haven’t eaten the sandwich, and says good friends make sure their friends eat," Judge supplies.

Rosie stares at the five-year-old who's somehow managed to see through all her defenses in approximately fifteen minutes.

"Your daddy's teaching you well," Rosie mutters, and it’s quickly translated.

Grace beams and signs something that makes Judge actually laugh out loud.

"She says her daddy is the best and you should listen to her about eating because she knows everything."

"Modest, isn't she?" Rosie says, but there's warmth in her voice now. Real warmth.

Grace shrugs expressively, then picks up the sandwich from Rosie's plate and hands it to her with the kind of expectant look that says she's not going anywhere until Rosie takes a bite.

Rosie looks at the sandwich. At Grace. At me.

Then, slowly, she takes a bite.

Grace claps. Rosie chews. Swallows, and takes another bite.

I watch her eat half the sandwich before Grace decides she's done supervising and runs off to show her book to the other women. Rosie puts what's left of the sandwich down, her hands shaking slightly.

"That kid is terrifying," she says.

"She's five."

"Exactly. Five years old and she's already better at emotional manipulation than most adults."

"It's not manipulation when it's genuine concern."

"Says the man who gave a stranger his cut."

"Says the woman who's still wearing it."

She looks down at the leather around her shoulders. Touches the patch. "I should give this back."

"You should eat the rest of that sandwich."

"I'm full."

"You ate half a sandwich. You're not full."

"How do you know what I am?"

"Because you were locked in a warehouse for a week with minimal food." My voice comes out harder than I intend. "You're not full. You're starving. But your stomach's not used to food anymore so it's going to take time to work back up to normal portions."

She stares at me. "How do you know that?"

"Saw guys come back from captivity. Same thing. Their bodies forgot how to process food properly."

"I wasn't in captivity that long."

"A week is long enough."

She pulls my cut tighter around herself. "You're very observant."

"It's my job."

"What exactly is your job?"