Hunched under the bridge, the Mutt'n'Jeff of the goon world had been desultorily playing card games for hours, to the point that their banter had turned perilously close to sniping.
"Oy, y'little weasel, if you're gonna cheat me outta the shirt on my back why don'cha at least try ta make it sly. Ye're insultin my intelligence over here."
"What intelligence, Frankie? Didn't think you had two brain cells to rub together."
The giant man surged up off his oil barrel, fist primed and wound. "C'mere, Lewis. I'll show you what a real empty head-"
They would never have noticed the tiny, blue-haired child ambling past their bridge had their earpieces not erupted in a terrifying gravel-voice that had madness heavily layered over the disdain.
"Look, you fusty nuts with no kernel! There he is! Now, make it work."
After a look of sheer horror between them over their almost-failure, the two quickly shoved over the barrels in the noisiest possible manner so that Lewis might lie with his enormous sidekick kneeling over him.
"Help! Somebody help, uh, quick!" shouted the oaf, pumping his fists on his partner's chest.
"Stop wincing!" he sneered. "You're dead, remember."
"I'm gonna be if you don't lighten up!" the weaselly one gritted out, but with great effort unsquinched his eyes. "Is he comin?"