"To be honest, I was once quite wealthy as well, but I didn't want to go back and inherit the family business, so I ran away... hey, hey, hey, don't touch my white paint!"
The man raised his voice, watching Keane about to bump into a pile of cans on the table, but Keane sidestepped deftly.
"..."
"You little rascal, are you messing with me?" He was bewildered, "I'm telling you, this here is my month's living expenses. If you spill it, you'll..."
Keane replied indifferently, "Do what?"
"... I'll make you cook for yourself." The man coughed twice and pinched his face, "Alright, don't be upset. We're both sort of like in the same boat, don't worry, I won't let you starve!"
"Say that again after you sell a painting first."
The man: "..."
"You're so sharp-tongued; kid, you'll never find a girlfriend like this."
Keane was unconcerned.
"..."
Isn't this little kid just handsome?
