It's strange, Credence thinks, that he should feel chided. He did, only moments ago--that he'd messed up, that somehow something was going to happen that was his fault--but now he doesn't. The feeling has gradually ebbed from how the other's talked, how Jess treats him like a normal human being instead of something under his foot. It's still something Credence is getting used to.

He shifts uncomfortably, swaying just a touch to the left, and he allows himself to look at Jess--really look at him, gaze meeting gaze for a split second before dropping down once more. He thinks this is the most times he's looked someone in the eye in a very long while, except for maybe Mr. Graves.

Credence is suddenly very glad that he's alone. That the other man isn't here. It's just him and a British boy who travels by rooftops.

"Is there some sort of watch?"