"Guess what?" said the man with the briefcase. "No, come on, guess. Guess what's in my briefcase. Three guesses and I'll give it to you. If you get them all wrong, I'll beat you to death with it. It's not that heavy, but I can still do it." The man sniffed some mucus back into his nose. "You doing it or what?"
"Well," I said slowly, "When given the option, I'd rather not risk my life. You see I'm perfectly content as I am." I started to walk away, but my heart sank a little bit as the man wiped his nose on his sleeve and grabbed me.
"Hey, mate, let me rephrase it for you. Guess what's in my briefcase." He smiled tightly for an instant and then began chewing his lips and held the briefcase behind his back and balanced on his toes like a child. I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before he sighed. "Look, pal, I haven't got all day," he said and waved one hand in circle in a frustrated manner.
"Um, darkness," I said quickly. I could feel sweat on my palms despite the chill in the gray London gloaming. The man laughed and then coughed. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and spat loudly on the ground.
"Nice try, but I'm not a Tolkien fan." He told me. "You've got two more tries." I felt my eyes bulge a little in panic wondering if he intended to beat me in the open. Two the naked eye we appeared like two men merely talking, possibly doing some sort of business exchange what with the briefcase. "Come on!" He urged.