[This kid is assuming he could catch a bird in the first place. Either he's really that good or, more likely, he's full of shit. Whatever. Straightening up, Charles takes the poker handle and slides it out of Lutha's hand. He brings the pokey-end up to lay it across his right hand, the one with the missing finger. The poker is still a little bloody, but whatever. He wipes it off on his coat sleeve.]
no subject
Looks good. You got yourself a deal.