The man hesitates as the girl - no, child - cowers away from him. Far too young to be his wife, the only similarity the color of their hair. Questions flood his mind. Who is she? Is she homeless? Where is her family? His mind a fog, he can't even begin to piece together the answers. "Please don't hurt me." The words, and the emotions behind them, take a moment to comprehend. She is terrified.

On realizing this, Poitr turns his full attention to the child. For the first time he notices her injuries, and how much blood there is. Was she abandoned? Attacked? The questions continued to hurt his head. The range of emotions he experienced over the last few hours didn't help. He turns to face one end of the alley and yells, "Anyone? Help?"

He crouches in front of the child, bringing him to her level. As he does, the pendant is barely visible, pressed to the inside of his white shirt. "It's okay, I won't hurt you." He manages to talk without slurring his words. "I'll call an ambulance, and you'll be alright." He fumbles, reaching for the phone in his pocket.