You open your TRENCHCLOAK and quip, "Got some nice things f' sale, straynjuh."
At least you think that's the line. You have a vague recollection of it. But damned if you're going to double check for accuracy. It also occurs to you you're only talking to yourself so you stop this whole thing and examine the goods.
The only thing in your TRENCHCLOAK is your pet ROCK CANDY. And you're not selling that to anybody. You take care of your pet ROCK CANDY like it was your baby.
And, unlike some inhabitants of this building, you don't treat your babies like candy.
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