knife grinder

"If he isn't fierce worried about his driveway"—the knife grinder tilted his head and sucked air—"he needs to be. Tarmac's cracked serious like. Pack of tinkers laid it originally, that's my guess. Rain'll freeze inside them cracks come winter, prize the tarmac up, see, and by spring it'll be like the moon! Needs tearin' up and relayin' proper. Me and my brother'll get it done faster than—" His finger click was as loud as the popper in Frustration.

Knife Grinder leaned back, pleased, as if he'd won a bet.

“Ain't it more polite,” Knife Grinder said, turning to me, “just to ask 'bout yer bag, if yer thought we had it?”

The knife grinder's look was friendly on the surface.

Knife Grinder heaved up his kit bag and walked down the drive.