Every summer, UC Irvine would send out a notice of the upcoming parking lottery—it was the only way to deal with the high demand for spaces on campus. Staff and faculty alike would submit their appropriate applications, i's dotted, t's crossed and would wait, anxiously, for that email with the next academic year's lot assignment. The lucky ones got a space on campus—less fortunate were subjected to parking in satellite lots around the city, often having to park, then wait for a shuttle bus to take them in. There were those who griped endlessly about these less desirable assignments.
But not Doctor John Smith.
When he'd been placed in a lot almost a mile from his office door, he'd been rather delighted. Then again, growing up under grey and often drizzling English skies—the ratio of sun to rain in California has made him a big fan of walking. And so walk he did, every weekday morning from his car to campus.
It's how he happened to pass Obi-Wan that day. As the pedestrians ahead of him walked on without even turning their head, Smith wasn't so cold nor absorbed in his own day to fail to take notice. He didn't pat his pockets for change, because he knew he didn't have any. He never carried money, simply because he never remembered to and the modern world allowed for that with the advent of the bank card.
But that wasn't going to stop him.
So when he neared and the question was asked to him if he had change to spare, the Doctor smiled rather cheerfully. "Not a bloody cent—but I've got a card and a caffeine deficit, so come on," he nodded in the direction of the next block up. "...let's go get a cup."
And he waited, expectantly then, as though this was a perfectly normal, everyday response to an encounter with panhandling—there were those who'd think he was mad, just inviting himself to get robbed, or worse. But there was always the chance that wouldn't happen and Doctor Smith was always one game for an adventure. Some kind of deviation from the day-to-day.