The two NYPD beat cops strolled up to the hotdog cart, their thumbs hooked lazily into their utility belts.
The sun had completely set while they were arguing, the evening sky surrendering to the deep, inky black of a New York night. The glow of the streetlamps and neon signs cast harsh shadows across their faces.
"What seems to be the problem here, Sal?" the taller cop asked the vendor.
"These two crazies are trying to steal from me!" the vendor shouted, pointing a pair of greasy tongs at Aria. "She ate half a dog, and now sweater-vest here is threatening to 'buy my life'! They're high on something!"
The cop sighed, turning his attention to Aria and Damien. "Alright. Let's see some ID. Both of you."
"Officers, hi!" Aria chimed in, her voice pitching up into a frantic, overly-friendly squeak. "There's just been a silly misunderstanding! My husband just left his wallet in his other... sweater vest. We were just leaving!"
