"The shine on these sunglasses lasts a lifetime, officer! One hundred percent guaranteed!"

"The shine on these sunglasses lasts a lifetime, officer! One hundred percent guaranteed!"

Stylish shades, huh? They'd be even more stylish if you paid for them with net worth. Go over and ask him.

Rummage through the box.

These are all boring. Boring third-rate ho-hum sunglasses made of cheap Seraise plastic. The kind of plastic that melts in the sun.

Those UV-stickers are almost certainly just there for show. If anything, these lenses probably direct more UV light into your pupils -- a UV magnifier.

"These are all first-rate sunglasses!" the man declares. "Premium design, superb material, very cool UV-resistant! These will definitely keep your eyes safe and cool while doing your dangerous police work."

Try again, maybe you can find some interesting sunglasses in the box.

Ah, I see... A pair of waterblue shades. The writing on the left temple says: "Sub-Insulindic Rendezvous." The frame appears to be hand-carved out of bone.

"Oh, very interesting choice, officer, very high-culture..." For the first time the street vendor's voice trails off, as he watches you inspect the glasses.

Try them on.

This is how a sea monster sees the world. You've become a sea monster -- giant, hidden and... strangely tender at heart. All is blue.

Alright, but these actually make your vision worse. It's like literally being under water.

Yes, but they also make your soul quiver like jello. So deep.

"Wow, officer, you look so cool," the street vendor has picked up his pace again, as you observe the world through deep sea-tinted lenses.

"And they can be yours for a mere three reál. My regular customers have passed them all up because they've got no taste, but you found them..."

"Kim, what about these?"

The lieutenant tilts his head and steps back, eyes narrowed in a thorough examination. It's a case to him.

"You look like a musician," he declares, eyes still squinted behind his own glasses. "Like a blind musician. But you could do worse. Take them if you want."

Put them back.

"What, change your mind, officer?"

"A pity," the lieutenant says. "Those actually weren't half bad."

No luck. All you find is this... lime-coloured cellophane visor? Produced by a bargain sportswear brand called Amphibian, apparently. There's a malformed green frog on its bent cap.

"Oh, that visor is perfect for you, officer. It'll definitely keep the sun out of your eyes while you're shooting criminals." The street vendor makes a bang-bang sound. "And all for a mere six reál."

Hey, at least it might actually offer some protection against the sun, not like those cheap plastic shades.

(Turn to the lieutenant.) "Kim, are firefights something we should be prepared for?"

"I hope not," he says, looking up from his browsing.

"You don't like it? Sure, square-jaw, no problem. Let's get you some real shades."

Put the visor back.

"I'll take those ugly glasses."

"A good starter pair, officer! And when you're ready to upgrade, come back and see me!"

"I'll take those cool deep blue glasses."

"A man who knows his style," the street vendor nods. "Much respect."

"I'll take that Amphibian sports visor."

"Sporty and practical, officer! Good choice."

[Leave for now.]

Try the shades on.

Abort! These are hideous. What's more, they don't even fit your face. You can feel them pinching your nose and chafing against your brow.

"Damn, officer, you look like a mega-secret spy, very secret," the man nods eagerly. "They're practically made for you. I'll let you have them for... two reál and fifty cents!"

They're perfect for concealing your bloodshot and baggy eyes.

It's going to be very difficult for anyone to take you seriously with these things on your face.

"No," the lieutenant gently removes the glasses from your face, setting you free again. "You're definitely not buying those."

"You're right, I'm too sensible for those."

"Are you sure? But they look so good on you!" The street vendor frowns. "You should think this through, officer."

"Don't tell me what to do, Kim. I like those sunglasses."

"No, I can't... We can't walk around with you looking like this." His hand has already risen mid-air, but he stops. "Okay, fine. Go ahead. If you want to look like a walking mid-life crisis, then who am I to interfere?"

The lieutenant's reverse psychology fourberie doesn't work on you. If you want to look like a mega-secret mid-life crisis, that's your choice.

There's a pile of cheap sunglasses in a small box, a variety of shapes and colours.

"You like sunglasses, officer? I've got the latest styles, right here!" The vendor takes a pair of sunglasses and sticks them under your nose.