Izzy’s brows rose at the boy’s response, silently commending him for his caution and glad he had at least given up trying to get the paper. For now, anyway.
	“I didn’t [i]steal[/i] it,” she responded, lowering her hand and the paper slightly, but keeping an eye on Mikey. “Just temporarily confiscated it.”
	When Holden reminded her that he was still there, calling out to her, she instinctively turned toward him. She glanced back to the kid when he moved, adjusting where she held the paper in case he decided it was a good time to go after it.
	“It’s alright,” she tried to reassure Mikey. “He’s that friend I mentioned.” She looked back toward Holden and raised her voice as she continued. “This is Mikey,” she answered his question. “Mikey Hendrickson. He’s trying to find a place, but he’s lost.” She turned back toward the child. “I can’t read your handwriting. What address are you looking for? Maybe I or Holden,” she raised her voice again when she said his name so he would hear, “could point you in the right direction.”