What was with this guy? On one hand he was glad he didn't run to the cops, but on the other this guy felt kind of pretentious. 

Anthony frowned. "What?" He was just supremely confused, right now.

Meyer had to tilt his head down to look at the stranger's face, as he was at least ten inches taller than him. He pulled out the money purse, sighing softly.

"I really am in a hurry to get home. My sister will be worrying. Please, just take the money. I hope it will sustain you enough so you don't have to steal for a week or two."

Anthony furrowed his brows. What the hell is going on here. This has to be some kind of trap or something. That was the only logical explanation, here.

"Why?" Why was this man just...giving him the money.

Meyer saw the suspicion in the stranger's eyes and winced. He meant no harm...

"Here." He tossed the man his coin purse and took a few steps back. "Take it. I won't say anything to the authorities or whatnot. Just use it well."

He walked the streets around the pubs quite often as there was usually trouble or someone needing a hand. Hearing voices in an alleyway instantly made him change his route towards them. It was either a robbery or a fight most likely.

"What's going on there?" He called out loudly as he approached them before being able to see their faces. "It's Constable Crane." He wanted to give them a chance to separate if it was a fight, and some guys just were hot tempered and really would behave over going to jail.

When he noticed a man he didn't recognize dropping money and Anthony standing there with a knife, his eyes widened as he stared at him for a moment.

Meyer turned to see a man who was clearly part of some law enforcement in this town. 

"What's going on there? It's Constable Crane."

Meyer sighed and offered a polite nod the constable. He'd hoped to avoid the law's involvement. This whole affair could have been over and this thieving stranger might be better off with the money he'd 'stolen'.

"Nothing, sir, simply a transaction of goods. This kind fellow was offering me his knife in exchange for a few coins."

He tut-tutted and shook his head ruefully. "You never know what criminals you'll meet around here, especially if one is new."

Meyer offered a handshake to the constable. "Meyer Whitlock, sir. My sister and I are new in town, Eve Whitlock is our grandmother."

Anthony didn't even have time to react before someone interrupted their 'conversation'. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized who it was. Anthony stared at Elijah for a moment too long, as the latter approached. Fuck. His life was over.

And as soon as the other man spoke, yet again, Anthony glared. How stupid was this man. What kind of defense was that? He supposed that he shouldn't complain, because his life was essentially in that moron's hands, but he still wanted to. That was a shoddy lie, and it was much worse than if they had all just said nothing. He was starting to mentally prepare himself for the fact that his life will essentially be over, now.

"...Hey," he said to Elijah, after a few moments of silence.

Elijah glanced at the man who called himself Meyer and rose his brow. He looked towards Anthony in a 'is this guy serious?' sort of way. He bent down to pick up the money and counted it before handing it back to him. "That's far too much for a knife like this. I suggest you simply avoid these dark alleyways and you shouldn't need a knife. Any time a knife is involved someone is more likely to get hurt." He smiled slightly. "Welcome to the town, I've met your grandmother, a very nice lady in my brief experience. I hope you like it here. I hope my friend, Anthony, does keep being so helpful." He kept his smile as he looked to Anthony but it was clear in his gaze that they would talk about this later in privacy.

"Does that work for you?"

Meyer glanced back and forth between the constable and the thief. Did they know each other? It seemed like it, from the way they were staring at each other. He nodded and tipped his hat to the constable, but left the money on the ground.

"A pleasure to meet you, Constable. You as well, Mr. Anthony."

And with a turn similar to the one he'd given when he turned to face Anthony (for apparently this was the thief's name) the first time, his coattails once more whistling with the movement, he continued on his way home.

Anthony had already managed to tune out of the conversation — it just felt like white noise to him, now. He felt sick. Was it even possible to feel sick from pure fear? Well, it seemed like it was.

He turned his head sharply to look at the stranger, who was now leaving. He wasn't sure what to feel about that. On one hand, he very quickly had grown to hate the guy, but on the other, right now he was genuinely terrified of Elijah and the thought of being alone with him.

Anthony's breathing became slightly shaky as he looked up at Elijah.