A Higher Class
“Ah, Raphael, you are such a joker.”
“But Monique, my sweet, you don’t get it,” Raphael said, straightening his leather gloves and adjusting his mask. “This world is separated into two parts: the stolen and the…non-stolen? Anyhow, I intend to remediate that imbalance.”
“I love it when you talk illegal,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, Money—I mean, Monique. Will you ever understand? These people are spoiled brats, they have some expensive baggage that I intend to take off their backs for them. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” she said unenthusiastically. “Really, Raphael, you’re a robber. I happen to be Chief of Police. That’s all.”
Raphael gasped. “A robber? How dare you! That would be insinuating that I’‘m a lowly burglar! I belong to a much higher class.”
“Yeah, like the Rollington case. That was spectacular.”
“Let’s not mention that one. Wait! Behind you!” She spun around, realized her gullibility, and turned back around. He was gone. She ground her teeth.