[ Midnight catches it one handed — one thing he has in common with Alhaitham is a knack for physical acuity — then peers at it briefly before, without a change in expression or mood, tosses it into the river. ]

There are millions of people like you in the world, boy. I can't protect myself from all of them.

[ ... Still with the "boy", even with vague evidence that he might be far older than that. Midnight looks at the boy, then turns, staring at the sky instead of the river, or the scene still unfolding next to him, or his small companion. ]

Tell me what happened in your own words. I don't care about what this city thinks the truth is. I want yours.