"I have to know more, I think there's something important in what is happening here." 

The words rang in the air. The short girl hadn't even spoken particularly loudly. But to Jatan, she may as well have been shouting at the top of her lungs. He had been watching her ever since he ducked by on his way to the hanging. This was his moment, and he intended to take it. He had to. For Edgar, for all the other victims. For Torm. 

Weaving through the crowd with practiced ease, he slipped up behind the girl. It seemed she was dismissing her male companion. [i]Make these words count[/I], Jatan told himself as he waited to catch the girl alone. [i]A lot depends on them.[/I]

A man dangled from the rope. Like a mouse held aloft by its tail as the grinning cat plays with its desperate victim, this man writhed helplessly in the air. Squirming. Gasping. Kicking. And then, nothing.

[i]Make these words count.[/I]

A hand slips from his pocket.

[i]Make these words count.[/I]

Fingers uncurl gently over the girl's shoulder to alert her to his presence.

[i]Make these words count.[/I]

Leaning in. Closer. Closer. 

[i]Make these words count.[/I]

Barely more than a whisper.

[i]MAKE THESE WORDS COUNT![/I]

"If you want answers, follow me."

Cutting left, out of the crowd, he moved quickly, but not too quickly, towards the slum.