Shaking his head, Kestrel reached for the pack on the dashboard and knocked a cigarette loose. He jammed it between his lips, gaze locked on the street ahead as he drove. "Kid, look ... Much as I hate to admit it, I owe you. The day those Disassemblers hit your mom’s place and killed her, they damn near killed me, too. If you hadn’t gotten there, maybe they would have. You hear what I’m saying?"