Preaching to the choir, buddy. You'd have to be nuts to lay down to rest out there.

[He catches the wallet deftly, like he's used to people throwing things at him, then thumbs through it. Lame, there's nothing good. Not even some kind of ID. Guess the corpse is just getting called "poor sap" for now.]

...oh, hey, it's one of those scratch-off lottery tickets.

[Though with the corpse's luck, it's probably a loser. He waves it in Charles's direction anyway.]

You feeling lucky today?