He turned to face her again, and looked down at what she gave him. His driving license. He had not expected that, but it hardly changed anything - he had already ordered a new one.
"Do I really look like a man who needs to worry about losing a watch or a couple of hundred?" he asked her on a low tone when he took the license card from her. And then he realized it, just as he was speaking - that sting in his conscience, the strange guilt he had never felt before. This what some socialists, anti-capitalists, had been ranting at him, wasn't it? "I don't care about them, I already have a new watch, and a new cellphone," he shrugged, showing her the watch on his wrist. It was another new designer model, just as expensive as the previous one had been. "I don't ever need to worry about things like that, but you..."
This woman, this fantastic, beautiful siren in front of him, she needed to worry about money and food and staying warm. It was devastating to him how guilty that made him feel, how horrible it was to truly see the difference and the unfairness of it all for the first time. The look on his face was ashamed, and he didn't really know where to look, or what to do.