It's as audible as if he'd said it aloud, and he glances down at the black utilitarian watch on his wrist, watching the seconds run. But he ducks casually beneath a broken board in the nearest fence with the lifelong grace of a street punk who had grown up in the dingy back alleys of Brooklyn, the kind who looked at a narrow street clogged with trash and chain fences and broken bricks and saw an easy clear path.
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It's as audible as if he'd said it aloud, and he glances down at the black utilitarian watch on his wrist, watching the seconds run. But he ducks casually beneath a broken board in the nearest fence with the lifelong grace of a street punk who had grown up in the dingy back alleys of Brooklyn, the kind who looked at a narrow street clogged with trash and chain fences and broken bricks and saw an easy clear path.