The night is bathed in that sickly light again, and Ken sneaks towards the store, a ragged backpack on his back. His clothing is patchy and dirty, and it looks like he hasn't had a good meal in a long time. The door to the bakery is closed, but the window looks a little less secure. Unfortunately, it's a high window, designed more for ventilation than for anything else.

Ken eyes the distance to it. Dangerous, but he's really hungry. There's a drainage pipe that he can use, if he's careful. Slowly, he grabs the metal, pulling himself up towards the window. His malnutrition is actually useful here, as he's light enough to not shift the pipe much.

Now for the hard part. He drops down, holding onto the pipe but letting his legs scrape against the building as he works his way to the window ledge. After a few minutes of cautious swinging, he drops down, catching himself on the ledge. Now all it takes is some lifting, a little pressure - there. The window pops open and he climbs in, pulling it closed behind him.

The inside of the bakery is dark, but there's the smell of fresh bread. He doesn't like this. He doesn't want to steal, but he has no real choice. He heads towards the day old section, but stops. There's some delicately frosted cookies and cakes, and he reaches out before hesitating. … No. Much as he wants some sweets, he can't. He wants the fresh bread too, but someone has probably already written down inventory for them. Better to take it from the older pile.

There's not much left to be put out for the next day. Still, there's a few loaves. Ken picks up the smallest one, slightly misshapen, and grabs a bag from the counter, wrapping it. His stomach growls loudly, but he shakes his head. Just this one. He can't risk stealing more, and someone needs to sell this stuff to survive, too. Quietly he heads out the door, making sure it shuts behind him securely. This is going to have to hold him for a while.