The boy strolled through the streets of the Candy Kingdom, with a backpack weighted with items slung around his shoulders. He wore a blue t-shirt and shorts, and a white hood that concealed all of his head and neck, but left a large oval open for his face.

At his side was a dog, who kept pace with him. He was yellow, with beady eyes and a very short snout.

The boy looked down at the dog. "So, Jake, selling off the koo-koo clocks, yay or nay?"

"Yeah, Finn totally sell them, why would you even ask that?" They walked along the main street uninterrupted, speaking over the din made inevitable by the presence of the crowds of candy people going about their business. "It seems like a no-dinger, you know? What would we do with a bunch of koo-koo clocks?"

"Well," Finn put his index finger and thumb on his chin, making deep thought, or at least, his version of deep thought. "I was thinking of making a koo-koo wall."

"What's that?"

"It's like, this wall." He set his hands apart at parallel angles, as if trying to convey the size of something. "Where it's all koo-koo clocks. And when it's time for it to go 'koo-koo!' They all do it at the exact same time. And it makes this..." His eyes became beady, "effect..." he drew the word out, conveying drama.

Jake was quiet for a minute as they walked along the street together. He looked up at Finn. "Finn, I gotta say, that-sounds-awesome! All right! We're keeping the koo-koo clocks."

"But selling the bones and slug eggs."

"Totally, dude."

They stopped in front of the stairway leading up into the candy palace. "Alright," said Finn, "Let's go settle up our quest and get paid."

"What about selling our junk?" Said Jake. "Peebles can wait a half-hour or so more. The job is done anyway."

Finn put his hand behind his head, scratching it. "Yeah, but..."

Jake sighed, "all right, compromise. You go do the items, since it's all in your bag. And I'll go let the princess know that Skull Tower has been cleared out."

Finn thought for a second, then any tension that could be noticed on his face evaporated as he smiled at Jake. "Yeah, sure thing, bro." They split up, with Finn heading to the market area. It wasn't far from the center of the city, and he reached it quickly.

Finn strolled through the market stalls. It was the middle of the day, and the place was packed. In the background, closer to the main roads, he could see buildings that comprised more committed shops. He scanned them, looking for a pawnbroker. The trail through the rows of stalls led him right up to the outer wall of the town. He continued along the road between the walls and the market, keeping his head locked to the right to scan the market for what he was looking for.

It was only a fraction of a second between noticing the entity directly in front of him and walking right into it, but miraculously, that was all the time he needed to stop before he did. Finn found himself point-blank to a robed figure. The figure was only slightly taller than Finn. His face and figure were completely concealed, and his attention was focused on a sheet of parchment. He held the parchment over his left hand and forearm, and wrote things on it with a quill in his right hand, stopping incrementally to look up at the wall, then go back to writing. He didn't seem to notice Finn, in spite of them being literally inches apart. "Excuse me, may I ask what you're doing?" Finn couldn't help asking. There was a chance the figure might be out to cause trouble.

The robed figure didn't answer.

Finn decided to just leave him alone. He walked past him, continuing along the street.

"What is it?" Called the figure after Finn. His voice was low and soft, with a steady hum heavy with bass. It confirmed to Finn that the figure was male. He turned around to face him again. "Was just curious, dude. I wanted to know what you're doing."

"What are you, a cop?" The figure snapped. "What the math's it look like I'm doing?"

"Hey!" Said Finn as he walked up to him again. "I was only asking you a question, if you want me to mind my owns, you only need to say so."

The figure lowered his quill and parchment, letting them hang at his side. He turned to face Finn directly. "Sorry I was rude, man. I'm not looking to start any fights. Are we cool?"

Finn still couldn't see his face underneath the hood. "Sure, we're cool." Cool is good. "What were you doing? That is, if you... don't mind my asking?"

"Not a bit!" He said confidently as he pointed up at the wall. "I'm writing down the precise longitude and latitude of every watch post on the wall, here, so I can make a comprehensive layout map later."

Those sentences hit Finn like a warning siren. It sounded like some stuff Jake explained to him once about a thing called espionage. It was settled. He had to interrogate this guy. "Why are you doing that?" He couldn't jump to conclusions. True to his alignment, he did some study on how to properly administer justice. That training led him to doubt any fast-made conclusions. This guy could be an engineer, or he might be working for the guard. He couldn't be sure, he started feeling more and more uncertain and on edge, and his brow was locked in a tense furrow.

"I'm an independent architect, commissioned to plan renovations on the Candy Kingdom walls." He spoke with ease. His mouth was smiling with a reserved enthusiasm. He seemed to speak from the heart.

Finn made a sigh of relief. His uneasiness evaporated. If this guy worked for Princess Bubblegum, there was no way he was up to no good. "Okay, thanks for your time. Don't let me keep you."

He turned back to the wall, taking his quill and parchment back up. "Anytime, mister...?"

"Oh! I'm Finn, Finn the human."

"Anytime, Finn the human." His mood had sobered, and he was back to concentrating on his task.

Finn tentatively walked away. "Laters, then..."

"Yuup, have a nice day."

Finn moved on, leaving the stranger behind. As he moved along the street, it occurred to him that it completely slipped his mind to ask for his name. Oh, well, he decided, if he had to know, he could just ask the princess. He made his way back into the market area, and spotted what he was looking for; a pawnshop.

The day was coming to a close, and the sun was low in the sky, casting the city in a far less colorful palette. Craw had just entered the area in front of the tavern which served as its unofficial courtyard. It had been a very long day, and he was ready to hit the sack.

A group of candy thugs came out of cover as he crossed the middle of the space, out in the open. The thugs walked briskly up and surrounded him. He stopped moving, and counted their step rate. There were five of them. They were all different brands of candy, but they all had something in common in that they were all filthy. One of them spoke: "You're an outsider."

"That is correct." He said briefly.

"We don't take kindly to outsiders."

"You don't take kindly to me?" He asked rhetorically. "That's okay. I don't need your kindness."

"What he's tryin' to tell you." Said another thug. "Is that you and your horse better leave town, else there'll be trouble."

Any worry he had for Gates was immediately settled by his own constantly active reasoning faculty. They wouldn't dare attack him in a crowded tavern with so many witnesses. "I see your point."

"Good." Said the lead thug. They all started walking away. "You guys better be outta here tonight, got me?"

"And my answer is no."

"What you say?" They turned back to him. The lead walked up to him, imposing his larger figure on Craw's shorter self. "You looking for trouble, boy?"

"No, I've done nothing. You're looking for trouble. And let me just say." He lifted his hood, revealing his face. "You should have taken me by surprise when you had the chance."

The thug shook his head. "This ain't any place for bravado, kid. Leaving won't kill you, so just-"

"You worm!" He shouted in passionate anger. "I officially no longer care what you have to say. There's only one person, on this entire world I take orders from." He pointed at the thug in confrontation, then brushed his arm sideways. "We have nothing to discuss. I owe you nothing, but this warning: I'll do as I please, and if you attack me, that will be the end of you."

The lead thug looked him in the eye. Their visual deadlock lasted for an agonizing minute. The sun went down completely, and they all began seeing with the help of faint moonlight, and the glow coming out of the tavern windows. The air reached a temperature milestone, becoming decidedly cold. At the end of it, the thug slowly formed a smile. "You're alright, for an outsider." He put up his hands. "You win, we'll leave you and your friend alone." He turned around and walked away, his gang following. "Come on, guys. Let's go hang out at the junkyard fires."

Craw smiled after him. He didn't see it. "And you're alright, too, for a thug." He turned away and walked into the tavern.

Gates was still at their table. Their satchel was on the floor, leaning against his chair. The table was occupied entirely by a veritable metropolis of empty liquor bottles. Craw walked past Gates' relaxed figure, tapping him on the shoulder to make sure he was awake as he went to his seat. "Good glob, Gates." He said as he sat down on his chair opposite from Gates'. "I don't want to have to carry a horse, so I hope you can at least manage your way up to our room."

Gates waved a hoof ineptly at Craw, letting it slide left and right. "You underestimate my fortitude, boy."

"I had no Idea you were under so much stress." He was smiling goodnaturedly, amused at seeing the normally disciplined and uptight horse in a state of stupor. "Look, I'm tired, and you're peshed, so we'll talk in the morning." He got up from his seat, walked over and picked up the satchel, slinging the strap over his shoulder, then he took Gates' hoof, and pulled him out of his seat. "Let's get you to bed." Gates walked on his own two back hoofs, but he still needed Craw to guide him. He took the horse to the stairway in the corner near the bar. "Which room is ours, Gates?"

Gates raised his other front hoof. "Master Craw was given a room in the west wing of the palace, but he never so deigned as to ever use it."

Craw hung his head, rolling his eyes. "Oh beejuice, he's wasted." He looked over at the bartender, and signaled him over. "Which room did," he pointed at Gates' head, "this horse rent?"

"Room three!" Replied the bartender over the noise of the bar.

"Thank you!" He pulled Gates up the steps as the bartender went back to his task. Craw reached the end of the steps, still guiding Gates. The upstairs was a narrow, dimly lit hallway, made darker by the low-brightness color of the candy walls and ceiling. He made his way over to room three, and opened the door.

The room inside was surprisingly welcoming. It was recently cleaned, and a handful of lit lamps illuminated the room enough to see just fine, but still very dim, so it wouldn't disturb someone in a sleepy mood. There were two beds. Gates must have wisely asked for a room with that in it. He pulled him over to one of the beds, and then let him fall down on it.

Craw took off his cloak and most of his clothes, and got under the covers of the other bed. As he dozed off into sleep, he saw Gates make an absentminded kick into the blankets he lay on in the other bed. He sighed, and sagged his way back onto the floor. "I'm just too nice for my own good." He said as he pulled Gates' blanket out, and then threw it over him.