"Hah. I've never been a thief, so I wouldn't know."

The quip falls flat, what with the sour look in his face. Whatever. He makes a gesture at the air.

"Oh, you know how it is," he huffs. "Just having a normal day when suddenly some shit or another decides to reopen old wounds."

There's a pause. He looks like he's debating saying something else, and then:

"That woman- on the network," he says, "that's not- it's not her. But it is."

He's sure he doesn't need to elaborate on what he's talking about.