Understanding begins to unfurl in Abraham's mind as the man's fingers draw towards his face, his expression both thoughtful and friendly in a way that Abraham recognises. He's no stranger to such men, after all. Bribes and threats are not the only way to get information or extract an agreement that will open a door, pass a roadblock, or assist in crossing a border. Of all of his skills, it's one he uses rarely, knowing he has to be careful. Bad enough to be a known gonif, let alone a faygelah gonif who courts another target on his back. But here, anonymous, cast out between two shores, perhaps he can afford a little risk. The man doesn't look like the type to resort to violence, anyway.

Abraham raises his eyebrows and smiles back at him, a wide and pleased grin that, unknowingly, transforms his dark and vaguely suspicious expression into something far warmer. He takes a final draw on his cigarette and sighs out a cloud of smoke, flicking the rest over the side, the tiny ember disappearing quickly into the gloom.

« Do you always talk so much, sweetheart? Here, let me help. » It's Abraham's turn to mime, this time gesturing between them before making a motion as if rubbing a coin between his thumb and fingertips, then a curl and jerk of his fist, low down, that needs little translation.