"We hadn't thought of the matter being handled in that manner."
Joe eyed him in scorn. "Oh, you didn't, huh? What happens after I give it to this guy? I just sit around and wait for the cops to put the arm on me?"
Brett-James grimaced in amusement. "Mr. Prantera, this will probably be difficult for you to comprehend, but there are no police in this era."
Joe gaped at him. "No police! What happens if you gotta throw some guy in stir?"
"If I understand your idiom correctly, you mean prison. There are no prisons in this era, Mr. Prantera."
Joe stared. "No cops, no jails. What stops anybody? What stops anybody from just going into some bank, like, and collecting up all the bread?"
Brett-James cleared his throat. "Mr. Prantera, there are no banks."
"No banks! You gotta have banks!"
"And no money to put in them. We found it a rather antiquated method of distribution well over a century ago."
Joe had given up. Now he merely stared.