"Edinburgh," Billy said as he clung to Mark. "Born and bruised." He sounded a little distracted, still working on being comfortable as they rode. Trying to not throw off Mark's balance. At the same time, he was trying to watch where they were going, taking it all in. He hadn't seen much outside of his neighborhood and the studio. And even that was limited. He watched it all from his bedroom window, but that's about it.

This is what he'd always wanted to see. Where the artists lived. The ones who were just starting out, who were too far ahead of the industry to be profitable. The ones who had real creativity, who were in control of their craft. He seemed awed by it all, not at all deterred by the beggars and junkies.

"This is where you live?" Billy asked, gazing up at the buildings.