Wrong place, wrong time... wrong move?

A: What do you think you’re doing?

B: Christ, you again. How do you do that? You always waltz in, uninvited.

A: This is my patch too, you know.

B: That doesn’t mean you can poke your nose where it isn’t wanted.

A: Put the money down.

B: No I won’t, it’s mine.

A: Finders keepers won’t wash with me. You’re not five.

B: Someone else could use it on drugs. I’d put it to a good cause.

A: Like what? Your annual smoker’s subscription?

B: I knew that’s what you were going to say. You should think of some new comebacks.

You’re getting too predictable.

A: Look around you. It could make someone else happier. See that sad-looking kid on the swing.

B: …. You serious? A strange man offering a child money?

A: Actually yeah, you’re right. But you should know, standing around with a plastic bag you found under a park bench looks odd, too.

C approaching B with a hushed voice: Well, well. You must be the new recruit. I doubted you were going to show up. I hung around for a couple of minutes just to be sure.

A in B’s ear: Don’t run, you’ll look suspicious.

C counts the money in the bag: You’re ten pounds short.

B to A: Damn you, conscience. Had to stop me in my tracks, didn’t you? Not so high-and-mighty now, are we?

A: *sheepish silence*

                                               THREE DAYS LATER

A sees B’s black eye in the mirror and suffers from a bad… existential crisis.