..." The man stared up at her, eyes bloodshot, his face darkly veiled and streaked with dirt. "--Just fixin' your window, here. Bought this glass out of my own pocket, since I was the one busted it to begin with." Said in the down-east accent of the island, an accent dulled by alcohol, or its damage. He heaved up, got to his feet to face her. Joanna stepped back. "You get out of here!" "Said it was my fault. ..." "You just get out of here!" "I come up to fix it, that's all." The man's eyes were a blurred avoiding brown. An odor of spoiled sweat drifted off him. "... You broke my window, scared the hell out of me--and now you come mumbling up here to fix it?" "Yes, ma'am." "You can pick up that glass and stuff and just get out of here. You understand? Ou.--You can tell the police all about it, Mr. ..." "Moffit." "Mr. Moffit." "Well, ma'am, that's what I'm askin', for you not to call those people." Moffit swayed slightly back and forth, like a circus bear. Joanna saw he was drunk, at least a little.
