"Didn't say I was new," she pointed out. A small flicker of a smirk. "I've been around a little longer than you think. But yeah, I wasn't born here, and I wouldn't call it home."

Her fingers run along the grain of the table's wood, absently tracing out the pattern. "In terms of being on the streets . . . that's pretty much what happens when you're not old enough to earn money. Unless somehow you've got a name for yourself, nobody trusts you to do anything. And most of the people I hit can either afford it or got it illegally themselves."

In other words, no particular remorse.