Ah, good old tea!” said the Professor. “Don’t suppose you’ve brought enough to share with the rest of us?

Is this my seat here?” He shrugged off his overcoat. “Ah, look, chips! Love chips. Especially the hot ones. Nice and fresh, with a pinch of salt. I’m the Professor, by the way. And you are…?

“Oh, all right.” The Professor held up a thin, metallic rod. “Used this on the robot, just to ensure I got the cards I needed. Couldn’t let you win, Mr Gavaritt. I knew what you had in store with the money. Buy a bunch of machine guns and rifles. Start a turf war on the south side with the Geary Gang. And had you succeeded, innocent people would have died in the crossfire. People minding their own business. Shopkeepers. Mums and dads. Kids. Caught in the middle of your ugly little fight.”