Nathan walked through the streets, food in the satchel he'd gotten at the crepe place. He hoped he was keeping things in order. He'd hate having the noodles spill over the crepe, but then, he was in a hurry. He glanced over his shoulder and suppressed a curse. He was almost certain the man was following him. A short man, with a peg leg. That struck him as worrisome.
Turning down a side street, he paused at it, set down his food, and then stood flat against the wall. He pulled the life-preserver he carried with him. The heavy weight of the cudgel felt comforting in his hand. The heavy clump of the man's footsteps, complete with the tap of the peg leg, echoed in the air.
"Sir," came a wheedling voice, "sir, I was wondering if you could give me some..."
Nathan lashed out with the club. The interloper gave a yelp, a dagger in his hand clattering to the ground as he blocked the hit with his arm. "I... Directions!" the man screamed, wobbling unsteadily.
"Why are you following me?" asked Nathan.
"Directions!" said the man. "Directions!" He turned and began to move quickly. "My mistake! A thousand pardons! Be... be on my way!"
Nathan stared as the man raced away, or more exactly did so as best he could on a peg leg. After a moment, he picked up his food and hurried on his way. He kept looking behind him, every so often.
Somehow that didn't calm him. But then, perhaps that was the point of doing that, when you got down to it.