I hope Mimi isn’t giving away our water. The nausea passes, and I’m able to stand up straight. The shorter man is on the ground. The taller man is pouring water into his partner’s eyes. It’s our water, all right, and he’s using most of it.

Mimi is standing firm, the purple perfume atomizer at the ready. “No way you two are police.”

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” says the taller man, but his voice has lost all its conviction.

Mimi cocks her arm, the atomizer at the ready. “Let me see that badge,” she says. “Now.”

“All right, all right,” says the taller man, “so we’re not the police.”

Mimi turns the badge over in her hand. “Shit,” she says, “you drew a badge on a piece of cardboard?”

“It’s not a bad job. Nigel’s got a gift for art, yeah?”

“Christ, Trevor,” says the short man, “don’t use our names.”

“You’ve actually robbed other people with this?”

“No,” says Trevor.

“Maybe,” says Nigel. The skin around his eyes is red, but he seems to have recovered. “Couple euros here and there. What’s wrong with your husband?”

“You should get that checked out,” says Trevor. “My old man got a bad stomach. Six months later, he’s dead.”

“Your man probably ate something,” says Nigel. “No proper food in the whole city.”

“Look,” says Trevor, “we’re sorry about this, but we’re broke. We blew our money and don’t have enough to get home.”

Nigel rubs his eyes. “Trevor’s mum will send us the money for a ticket, but he don’t want to stand for the lecture.”

“So, you rob people.”

“Just the tourists,” says Trevor. “They don’t really care, you know. Gives them a story to tell.”

“Yeah,” says Nigel. “Some ways, we’re doing them a favour.”

“And if the real police catch you?”

“Yeah,” says Trevor, “that wouldn’t be good.”

Mimi pulls a five-euro bill out of her pocket and hands it to Trevor. “When we get back to the hotel, I’m going to report the two of you to the police. If I were you, I’d call Trevor’s mum immediately and get out of Prague.”

“Christ,” says Nigel, “you Americans are as mad as a bag of ferrets.”

“Canadian,” I manage to say before Mimi can leap in.

“I thought Canadians were polite,” says Trevor.

Nigel is on his feet. He seems none the worse for wear for having been perfumed. “What about my badge?”

“I’m keeping it,” says Mimi, and she points the atomizer at Nigel. “The five euros is for the badge.”

“Fair enough,” says Trevor as he and Nigel back away. “Hope your man feels better.”

I sit down on the bench. The nausea has passed, but it has left me exhausted.

“Is there any water left?”

“How you feeling?”