Andy looked around frantically, afraid the groper had friends. But there was only the one streetrat, and he stood between Andy and the alley’s mouth. The man was short and thin, and his clothes were a collection of rags so ratty that Andy wasn’t sure how many layers the man wore, let alone what the garments had once been. He was festooned with bits of bone, and tufts of gray and black feathers, and small bits of sparkling things all tied with cord and thong. Some even hung from his greasy dreadlocks. Fetishes, Andy realized. The man rattled as he waved his arms to deny his attempt to roll Andy.