This was exactly why Handy stopped in his damn tracks when he noticed himself on the front page of a white sheet. It had been a picture of him reading and lying half out of his tent on one of the better days that winter. The story underneath was titled ‘LOCAL BARON LIVES IN DITCH! TOO WASTEFUL TO AFFORD A ROOF?’. Handy tossed the kid a copper and took a copy. It was a hit piece, the column author sounding sympathetic, which honestly just made it seem so much worse, as if Handy was to be pitied. The most damning line was the one that wondered whether or not he was seen in such fine clothing as a means of compensating for his mean lifestyle living in the rough. Someone had paid for this to happen. If Handy was interesting enough for someone to risk snatching a photo and writing an embarrassing article, they would have done so a long time ago. Hell, they probably did for all he knew. Handy normally never bothered to read the papers, even back on Earth.