"The hell I don't need that money!" Myra also drew her weapon in response to the smelly man from before and pointed it at him. A second man also threw his hat in the ring and through the progressions this ended up being an old western standoff that Myra often read about in one of the few books she had growing up. "Come to your senses now! That man right there even says that it is mine." She pointed to the tin man she had dragged into the Pumphouse earlier. Somehow the two had some weird stranger bond going on but she was grateful for his input. "If you want proof, I got your proof. One hundred and eighty dollars. You'll even find my favorite trinket in there at the bottom. A single dime and you bet your ass, that I know what is in there. I count that thing every night because it is of the utmost importance to me and you'll be hard pressed to find anyone else who could make an guess like that!" She snapped her finger at him, demanding the satchel. Myra always kept a twenty on her person and out of the satchel just in case. You never know when you'd need emergency funds.