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“Look, Jev, I’ve got five bucks, I just want my bike back.”
He crosses his arms, “And why should I give it back to you? The fun I’ve had in the last hour has shown me it’s worth far more than five bucks.”
“Man, I just want my bike back, I need it to get around town,” Cub attempts to explain.
Jevin flicks the bell on the bicycle’s handlebars, delivering an almost painfully high-pitched note.
“See, the thing is, Cub,” He flicks the bell again, and again, “I’ve decided I need it to get around town. And you what they say - finders, keepers.”
He narrows his eyes, “Name your price.”
“It’s not for sale,” Jevin chuckles. He flicks the bell one more time for good luck. Oh, and because Cub twitches every time he does it.
“Hmm, alright,” Cub searches through his backpack, pulling out some sort of hard plastic sphere with a pin in the top, “You know, I was hoping not to have to resort to this…”
“Is that a grenade?” His eyes widen in fear. As Cub nods, Jevin stammers out, “A real one?”
“You want to find out?”
At that point, Jevin shoves the bike into Cub’s hands and runs away. Cub chuckles, satisfied with the results of attempting to scare Jevin with a fake bomb. He even got to keep his five bucks.
Meanwhile, Jevin runs until he’s panting for breath, then shakes his limbs to compose himself. Staying to find out if the bomb was real was not worth the risk. Not that he thinks Cub is the sort of person who makes bombs in his spare time, it’s just that, yeah, that’s exactly the sort of person he is.
Jevin pouts. He was really starting to like that bike.