As Torque pours water over his face, the pickpocket splutters and chokes, spitting water and opening his eyes halfway. "Ouch...Wh--who are you? Oh no, where's the guy--"
"Look," Torque interrupts, "it's alright. He's dealing with a friend of mine and probably not having much fun with it. You pickpocket." He raises a hand to cut off the boy's stammered protest. "Don't bother lying, I know. I used to be in a gang. It was fun, for a little while. Then people died. All the time. You think stealing is fun? Try doing it just to eat when everyone knows all the old tricks." Torque shakes his head, slightly lost in memory. "...Anyway. That guy might go looking for you if Arc doesn't magic him to death. Here." The engineer takes a small sack from his pocket and holds it in front of the boy. Damn, there goes all my repair money and spare change. Can I give him half instead...? However, the boy has already grabbed the purse and secreted it somewhere on his person.
"Take that and get out of here. I don't care how--horse, airship, on foot, whatever. Just get yourself away from the gangs, from the squalor, and yes, from the people trying to murder you. That should keep you going for a solid month." Torque pauses. There seems to be something keeping him from talking, but he eventually manages, "...and get a haircut, kid."
The boy stiffens, looking remarkably angered. "I like my hair! At least it isn't old hair, like yours."
Torque raises his eyebrows, endeavoring to look sophisticated, but only managing to look ridiculous. "Huh. Well, look at that, me and my "old hair" seem to have not been caught and given a concussion. Anyway, you get out of here with that before someone mugs you."
The engineer watches the kid scamper off. After a few seconds, the crowd has condensed enough to mask him from sight. Right, good deed for the day is over. Nearly killed, check, went after a gang runner, check--Oh, son of a bitch. Arc's going to kill me for this. Torque rushes back along the street towards the alleyway he emerged from.