James himself hadn't been held or carried by anyone since he had been a toddler - and even then, it had probably been Claude. He blinked. But then he put his arms around the man's neck to support himself and take some weight off the man's arms. It did look awkward, for although James was small for his age and skinny, the man was short. "Thank you." he remembered what little manners he had.

".....Yeah. You're welcome," he nodded. So. Now, to go home and feed the poor child and whatever else you're supposed to do with kids you found on the street that tried to steal your money and fucked up their leg. Starting to walk along the street, he quickly realized that it was not at all easy to try and walk fast when you're carrying a wholeass person in your arms. A small and perhaps underweight person, but still a person. 

"So. To home, then. My home." Anthony tried to walk as fast as possible to make this whole thing last as little as it possibly can, but it was hard, damn it.

Clearly no one had ever talked to James about stranger danger. Or maybe they had, and he hadn't listened. The streets were full of dangers for a child alone, especially at night. So what was the harm in going home with someone and having a roof over his head and food in his belly in a place where there would not be screaming and crying adults? James held on tight. The man seemed unsteady and the boy was rather frightened that he would accidentally trip over and he would hurt himself again. "Is it far?" he asked.

Anthony kept walking, very certain that he's going to drop the fucking child. But whether by a miracle, divine intervention or simply luck, he did not, and simply kept walking, albeit unsteadily. "Not really," he answered the question. "we should be there soon enough."

He certainly hoped that they would be there soon enough. It certainly seemed like it—Anthony took a turn into an alley, then several other turns outside of alleys, and after some very nondescript moments of walking and entering a building, Anthony nudged a door open with his foot, slipling inside. The place looked like you could enter feeling well and leave with a blood infection, but it was his home. Standing near the door for a moment with the kid in his arms—having almost forgotten that it's a real person he's holding—he looked into this shitty little place he called a home. "Well, we're here, now."

James looked around. Then he slowly climbed down and sat on the floor. The place looked like it was too miserable even for the mice, but he was used to poor living circumstances. His own home was not much to look at - although this place looked particularly miserable. "It's nice," he lied. Well, it wasn't completely a lie. It was better than sleeping outside.

Anthony didn't truly realize how heavy the kid was until he finally got him out of his arms. "Not really," he shrugged, taking his coat off and putting it away. This place was a shithole and he knew that, but it was the best he could get and it was his home. He'd grown quite attached to it, actually. 

"So." Anthony clasped his hands together and looked around. "If you want to eat something, I can fix something for you quickly, and if you want to sleep or anything then I'm sure that there's......some place you can sleep in." He wasn't exactly used to guests, if he could even call this child a guest. "I'm...Anthony, by the way," he quickly rushed an introduction, having realized that he hadn't introduced himself, actually.

"I'm James," said the child. "I would love something to eat." And as if joining in the request, his stomach rumbled.

Anthony nodded. "Alright then, James," he said, before speedwalking away into an another room. After a few moments and a very loud 'FUCK' uttered by him because of god knows what, he emerged with............bread. The food of the poor. The thing he had been eating for the past twenty-nine years, it seems. 

"I'm afraid I don't have a lot to offer you, James, but take this. Should fill your belly up a little bit, at least." And now he felt guilty because he can't give this child a full meal. Ah, shit.

The child looked up when he heard swearing, although he was not shocked or even impressed. His father and siblings swore a lot, and when James got bored, he would shout rude words and tourists and run away, just to shock them. The man returned with bread. James basically lived on bread, tea, and the left over chips he would go begging for late at night at the chippy. He would not turn down any food. Eagerly, he took the bread and started eating. "Dank you." he said, with his mouth full. "Yer a nice perzon."

Anthony smiled at that, nodding in acknowledgement. "Just doing what I have to do," he shrugged. Most of his panic had worn off by now, but the fact that he really did just bring a random-ass kid into his home was still a bit freaky. He doesn't do those sort of things, usually. What if the kid's parents found out? What then? Does the kid even have parents? Uuuuuughhhhh he hated thinking.

"If you want more, then just ask," he didn't have a lot to offer, at all, but was willing to go hungry if it meant the kid would get a bellyful of food.