Sun Mote Copse You can stand me up at the gates of hell

Peregrine's question sounded almost like an accusation to the gangster whose lids lowered slightly. Not enough to squint, but enough to let on that he hadn't welcomed the affronting question. It isn't your business was what the gangster truly desired to say, but he held his tongue. He was a gentleman, first and foremost; and for the most part he tended to conduct himself as such. Prided himself on it, in fact. There were exceptions to the rule, of course, times when he had to be less than a gentleman to drive a point home but those were rare and this did not feel like it needed to be one of those moments. “My aspirations and my family.” Three out of four of his children had found their way here and that alone was enough to bid Arturo to stay. They no longer needed him, it was true, but he hoped that in this respect they counted on him to be there. He was still their father and they knew they could always come to him if they were in trouble or needed advice. That never changed and it never would. His reasons were solid as far as Arturo was concerned. “And you?” The question was returned simply out of courtesy, and perhaps out of Arturo's own curiosity. “Do you have anything to keep you here? Or do you truly intend to keep walking until you find green once more?”