Watching out of the corner of his eye, Wyatt was silent as he returned to stealing soft, flaky pastries out of the glass case. He watched - attention on the young man's hands, his feet - as he moved, but said nothing.

Not until Danny did. Even if he was talking to himself.

"It ain't 'sposed to. They don't want ya to get enough," he muttered, turning away from the case. "They want ya to have to come back here, with everyone else."