"The performative experience has ended. Good -- what can I help you with?"

Voila, you're doing it!

Really put your back into it. Yell it from the top of your lungs!

"You seem rich. Can I have some money?"

"Why yes, I am rich. How much money do you need? Hopefully not too much, I couldn't bring all of it with me."

She's surprisingly nonchalant about this. If anything, your finally asking it has relieved some of the tension.

"I need 30 reál."

"That's a good sum -- not too small, not fantastically large." She reaches into her raincoat and pulls out a zip bag -- in it you see paper notes arranged like black gills.

She removes a few notes and hands them to you. The paper is cold and oily to the touch.

The lieutenant breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. We won't be needing to go to my Kineema, then."

There must be about 200 reál in that zip bag. Maybe a little less. Plus some change at the bottom.

Whoa, whoa. Did you see how easy that was? Ask her for more! Toot-toot Train to moneytown!

Nay, 'twould be dishonourable, and mine honour is my life.

Can you eat honour? Are you an honour-vore? Give me a break...

"So," she returns the zip bag to her jacket. "I hope I didn't just bribe you, officer. It may not be technically illegal under the Emergency Act, but still..."

"You bribed me all right. I'm your little peone now."

You illustrate the expression by holding an imaginary-- and very, very tiny-- peone between your thumb and index finger.

"You're right, ma'am, that donations are permitted under the Emergency Act, unseemly as it may be, as long as they're properly logged with the precinct..."

"Which he most certainly will do." She bows, and then raises a single eyebrow in your direction: "Now, how else can I help the RCM today, besides supplementing its salaries?"

She laughs out loud. It is a beautiful laugh, laced with glee and a certain sharpness. It travels far on the water...

She clears her throat. "Now, how else can I help the RCM today, besides supplementing its salaries?"

"I'm still getting my head around this whole money concept. You were just helping me out."

"It's quite the phainómenon, I agree." She bows slightly. "Now how else can I help the RCM today, besides supplementing its salaries?"

"Funny that your worried about this and not your ruthless exploitation of the entire human race."

"Au contraire, officer. I also feel queasy about the pittance the Coalition calls your salary. Now is there something else I can do for you, or did you want to chat about dialectics some more?"

"Certainly not. I am an honourable policeman."

"That's heartening to hear. There are too few honourable men in Revachol." She gives you a slight bow. "Now how else can I help the RCM today, besides supplementing its salaries?"

"I want to talk about something else now."

"Of course." She bows slightly. "Now how else can I help the RCM today, besides supplementing its salaries?"

"Can I have some more?"

"This may seem like odd behaviour for a police officer, ma'am, but it's a perfectly common side effect of his..." He squints at you.

"... unusual medical episode."

"It's all right, lieutenant." The woman dips her fingers back into the bag. "I really did bring as little cash with me as possible, to avoid attention. So here you are -- the last bit of filthy lucre I can share."

"So," she returns the zip bag to her jacket. "I hope I didn't just bribe you, officer. It may not be technically illegal under the Emergency Act, but still..."

"Uhm..." The woman dips her fingers back into the bag. "I really did bring as little cash as possible, to avoid attention. So here you are, the last of bit of filthy lucre I can share."

"I need 60 reál."

"That's a good sum -- not too small, not fantastically large." She reaches into her raincoat and pulls out a zip bag -- in it you see paper notes arranged like black gills.

She removes a few notes and hands them to you. The paper is cold and oily to the touch.

"I need 130 reál."

"That's a good sum -- not too small, not fantastically large." She reaches into her raincoat and pulls out a zip bag -- in it you see paper notes arranged like black gills.

She removes a few notes and hands them to you. The paper is cold and oily to the touch.

"I need 25 reál."

"That's a good sum -- not too small, not fantastically large." She reaches into her raincoat and pulls out a zip bag -- in it you see paper notes arranged like black gills.

She removes a few notes and hands them to you. The paper is cold and oily to the touch.

"I need 100 reál."

"That's a good sum -- not too small, not fantastically large." She reaches into her raincoat and pulls out a zip bag -- in it you see paper notes arranged like black gills.

She removes a few notes and hands them to you. The paper is cold and oily to the touch.

"I need 70 reál."

"That's a reasonable sum -- not too small, not fantastically large." She reaches into her raincoat and pulls out a zip bag -- in it you see paper notes arranged like black gills.

She removes a few notes and hands them to you. The paper is cold and oily to the touch.

"I need 10,000 reál."

"Come now. Nobody carries that much cash on their person, particularly in a place like Martinaise... I'd get robbed."

"And even if I did I still would not give you ten thousand reál. I would rather buy something nice with it. Like expensive hi-fi or a new Hydrodynamique E40 sail."

Her tone makes clear that you've violated some kind of rich-person taboo. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Hydrodynamique E40? Sounds fast."

"It is. Fast and silent." She gives you a crooked little smile. "Try again, but lower."

"I like high fidelity anything, sir." She gives you a fast little smile. "Now try again, but lower."

"Hi-fi? I like high fidelity disco music too."

"I would like 0.1 cents."

"So would I -- but woe! There is no such denomination."

"Ideas like this one are all part of his rare medical condition, ma'am. Nothing to be worried about."