( It's one thing to parade yourself as the ginger saviour of pickpockets and cheap trick peddlers — and another to rally up a toddler crowd where Kanda, the eye of a grumpy storm, has to breathe around them.

Stay close, they said. Watch each other's backs. Stay out of nonsense.

And then there's the red menace, coaxing kids out like a snake charmer, while Kanda's snooping, taking the measure of the place, learning the lay of its ground — only to whip back, when a five-year-old yanks his sleeve to ask to be picked up to see the God damned basket, and really.

Really, he only picks up the little thing because, kicking and screaming in delight, it might drown in the bloody flooded streets. Can't help himself from hissing out, when Cal's progressing in his line-up: )

Lying to small squealers, you dirty animal?

( Yeah, that's right. Every crowd's got a Kanda. )