It was like the old man to do something like this. I may have been lost in the streets for the last year and a half, but I was not so lust driven to go for my sister (not that she was related to me, but I had always thought of her as my sister). I know what the rumors of street dwellers were, and had lived there myself long enough to know most of were just that. Though quite obviously, the people here that I had grown up with believed the rumors completely.
I tossed her one of the bath robes, telling her to put it on. What she was wearing could easily make me forget saner thoughts of her. I wasn't here to deal with the old man's usual antics. And I had learned quickly that acting on lusts and emotions in the streets was the easiest way to invite your death. I was here for business, and a little abuse of other's memories for a chance to bathe, not something you get to do very often on the streets.
My emotions were driving me to put a couple spare pieces of lead in to the old man's head, but I wasn't here for him and I had a professional image to keep. After finishing washing the street from me, I said a few parting words to my sister; telling her to hide in her room under the bed. Now I had some business to tend to...