Bandit pauses and selects one of the beggars, apparently an ork, wrapped in many layers of raggedy threadbare clothes and so blanketed with filth Bandit is at first uncertain whether it’s a male or female. Its aura shows it to be a male. Bandit steps near and holds out a piece of corporate scrip in the amount of five nuyen. The beggar grabs it, seizes Bandit’s wrist with one trembling hand, then both hands, and begins crying out for more, pleading, sobbing, wailing. The beggar’s two nearest neighbors join in, also grabbing. Bandit shows them his empty hands. All three beggars lose interest. They sit back against the building front and stare off into nothing. And that, it seems, is the way of beggars. Most of them, anyway. No matter what they are given, they always seek more. When nothing more is forthcoming, they turn their attention elsewhere. Most do not say thank you.