People still bake for him here. Only some of them realize what they're doing, the offerings left and what they mean, what gifts they get in return. Some do it because something inside them tells them he might be the sort of person worth having on their side without really understanding what that means and how he repays them in small ways every single day. Others, like Greta, they understand.

But not many folks just offer him muffins on the street and not many of them seem surprised by his size any longer. They've grown used to it.

Sweeney looks down at the girl, amused, his mouth turned up at one corner where he holds a smouldering cigarette.

"Yeah, guess I been told that once or twice in my life," he agrees. "Are tall folks exempt from the muffins?"