[That earns a scoff; that sharp-edged sarcasm, that dry wit, it reminds him of Carl. Markus is used to it, his own sense of humor even sometimes aligning.]

I don't have any other suggestions, Arthur. What do you think we should do? Walk into a department store, politely pick out some clothes and pay at the register?

[Which would work, perhaps, if they didn't look the way they did. If they had access to monetary accounts, and if they could even use them without setting off red flags.]