A short exchange...
...between a small acrobat and a loosely clothed poor man both of whom stand inside a bun-shop just moments, a yard in fact from a house next door with only an old Victorian sealed drain conduit to give it character.
He fumbles in his pocket leaning against the illuminated glass counter for warmth and comfort.
"Excuse me, are you some kind of Acrobat? I ask not only to rudely assume from your tight fitting all over body suit, but to shed light on those powerful and calloused hands."
"Ah the hands, you noticed them. They're too big to hide I know. This outfit has no pockets to speak of and gives my occupation very little privacy."
"Ah, but why hide the marks of your graceful day job. You think that the Bakers get shy about flour in their hair?"
Looking at the ground and shifting from foot to foot.
"No, I suppose not, your quite right of course. But I didn't always want to be an Acrobat I wanted to be a Samaritan. Did you see that man outside with his trousers stuck in the grate?"
"You mean the speechless man with the wind in his hair? Yes I did he is called 'The Loob' and when the wind dies down he'll be able to pull free. I know him, it happens a lot, it's nothing to worry about really."
"Maybe we should give him some of our buns when we leave?"