Marc pulled the car to the curb without further discussion.
They left the car and entered the Empire, where aisles and counters stretched into the distance over gleaming floors. A dark girl with circles under her eyes lounged dreamily at a counter displaying gloves and handbags. They approached. But just as they did so a short, stocky individual in a turtle-neck sweater hurried up to the girl from the opposite direction. He stopped abruptly and stuck a revolver in the girl's face, waggling it just beneath her nose. Crossing her eyes drowsily, the girl observed the gun, then the man.
"Oh, fer Cris'sake," she murmured.
"Hand over the cash, sister," the man growled.
"Okay," the girl yawned. "Only don't rush me, see?" She reached under the counter and brought forth a bag such as money is kept in. She scratched herself delicately and dropped the bag on the counter. "I figured I'd have it ready this time," she said. "Anything else, sir?"
"Yeah," the thug snarled, brandishing the gun anew. "Now lay down on the floor and don't open your trap until I'm gone."
"Aw, that corny routine, huh?" the girl sneered.
"G'wan!"
The girl shrugged indifferently, then boosted herself away from the counter and disappeared slowly beneath its horizon. The thug departed in the direction of the street.