His listener was sitting with his back to Vadim, the naked back of his head pulled down into his shoulders. Vadim released his grip on the handles of the bundle, adjusted his grasp on the shot-gun and pulled back the breech (the ejected shell-case emitted an audio signal from an adjacent reality).

'By the way.' - the long snout of the shot-gun took aim at the twitching skin of its own accord - ' ... money is just a load of garbage.