"You're right on that last part," Jez concedes with a smirk. It's not that he doesn't have money - Jeremiah's homelessness is a result of his own restlessness and a certain kind of satisfaction that he takes in managing to weasel his way in to various different people's houses in order to rob them blind - it's just that he doesn't like spending it. The thick roll of twenties in yet another secret pocket of the never-ending reaches of his jacket was testament to that - and testament of a successful night of wheeling and dealing. No, Jeremiah certainly has the money; what he lacks is the ability to part with it.

"Sterling conversation, though... You tried to tell me it was fucking raining and that you were gonna die at some point." Another smirk, wider this time. "You got a pretty mouth but your patter is shit."