"So you're their coffee gopher?" he asks, smile winding down to something more casual. "Dang, detective. Not making enough cha-ching?"

He lifts his hand and rubs his fingers together, the common signal for money. He's teasing, of course. And for it, he gets a bird flying overhead that times their shit bomb in such a way that it lands right on his gloved fingers.

His expression is priceless.

He looks up to the sky. "You're fucking kidding me!"