Hobo — Tough

They lay flat against the freezing floor, Artie using his own heavy wool coat to bridge the gap between them, sharing the meager warmth. He’d survived the Great Flood of '93 and the winter of '08 by knowing exactly how much a human body could take before it broke.

Should we explore Artie's and what drove him to the rails, or hobo tough

Artie didn't argue. He just moved. He didn't have a heater or a thermal blanket. He had a stack of old Sunday Gazettes he’d scavenged in the last yard. They lay flat against the freezing floor, Artie

Artie’s hand, calloused and strong as a vice, clamped onto the kid’s shoulder. "Stay. If you jump now, the frost finishes what the fall starts. We’re ghosts, kid. Be the shadow." He just moved