no response from Newbee. Tyro remained emotionally guarded and rigidly retentive. Over time, however, Mick's superficial expressions of kindness slowly eroded the dull patina covering the once animated and expressive bright brown eyes of the FBI's forlorn agent.
Their initial conversation consisted of nothing more prolific than an exchange of "Hi" and "Hey." The first utterance from Tyro's taut vocal cords sounded harsh, cracked, and dry, due to their unnaturally prolonged disuse. Yet, like a skier's sneeze, the inceptive release of that single sound triggered an avalanche. Soon the contents of Tyro's bereft heart were cascading toward the sympathetic security guard in a torrent of fearfully urgent, whispered confessions. The successive workday exchanges between Mick and Tyro took place secretly in secluded areas that were well out of range of the bank's sophisticated surveillance equipment. Those daily discourses provided Newbee with his only form of social interaction. Tyro's dejected spirit was gradually lifted. The detective had no practical reasons for those ongoing communications. There was no professional gain to be realized. Since Tyro had been cast out immediately after his single mistake, there could be no forthcoming bureau insights on the case to be gleaned from their pitiful pariah.
Perhaps, the philanthropic activities of Clint Indigence were having a mellowing effect on the detective's practicality. Mick observed his landlord devoting large segments of his spare time to tireless work with his jury-rigged windmill, cannibalized generator, and common chemicals to painstakingly produce battered jugs of pure oxygen. Indigence had even constructed Sara's cannula from unused aquarium air hose tubing. Loneshark privately thought Clint's efforts were ludicrous. Then Mick accompanied the old man on one of his deliveries to his lifelong friend, Miss Sara Perm. On the way, Loneshark pondered the point of Clint's profitless work. Indigence spent days capturing an extracted element, a fleeting substance of bottled molecules whose therapeutic release would only last moments. During that delivery, Mick began to grasp Clint's preference of free returns in place of demanded profits, offered privilege instead of required payment, and gratuitous gain in lieu of sought recompense. For the venerable Mr. Indigence did not demand, require, or seek any material compensation for his services. When they returned home, Clint explained to his young apprentice that the laughing wrinkles framing Sara's watery eyes were payment and profit enough. The knowledge that his efforts had aided a dear friend to calm a solitary nighttime's panicked awakening and breathe a bit more freely engendered a feeling of accomplishment that no amount of money could ever purchase.
Loneshark began to accept Clint's adopted family values. Mick soon discerned the inherent value of his mentor's preferred rewards. With a satiated sigh, Mick acknowledged that the double portions of Miss Perm's homemade apple pie, alone, were worth the trip and the toil. Mick further remarked that he had noticed the beaming pride Sara's ancient features displayed as she watched them voraciously devour her delectable handiwork. The old man smiled
