Excerpt: Sympathy for the Devil

[first draft]

“So, you have twenty bucks?” She asked this very sternly, not in a way you could expect a beggar to do: there was no kindness, no pleading, no helplessness.
“No.” His reply was just as stoic, he didn’t even look at her when he gathered his things from the street and put them into his bag, willing to leave this very instance. His answer was not enough for the girl, though.
“Ten?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. Give me five.”
“Nope.” The last thing, his hat, was lying right next to girl’s legs. He wondered whether or not the girl would be bold enough to take it as hostage.
“You don’t have five dollars?” she snorted mockingly. “What kind of a man are you?”
“No, I have five dollars, but I’m not gonna give them to you,” he answered, both tired and annoyed. Couldn’t the girl just thank him and let him be?
“What a fine gentleman you are,” she said smiling cruelly, perfectly unamused. “‘Kay, give me a dollar. Just one dollar, baby.” She leaned closer to him. “That you can at least afford to give to such a pathetic creature as I am.”
“No,” he said, grabbed his hat swiftly from the ground, put it on and turned his back to her, finally leaving.
“Why the hell not?” she called angrily after him.
Ash was astonished by the girl’s aggressiveness and the bitter tone of her voice: she was so tiny, so fragile in her oversized coat and fisherman’s boots – someone delicate, someone who would not know how to demand anything with a curse. He chuckled lightly, caught up by his surprise, as he turned back to her.
What an annoying creature.
“How can I know where you’re gonna spend it?”
Now it was the girl’s turn to look surprised: her furry brows went up near to her hairline in a questioning manner, her thin lips turned into a grimace.
“What?” she demanded sarcastically. “You wanna receipt?”
"Well," he said slowly. "It wouldn't hurt."