"It was for your own good, bucko. Would you prefer to be stuffed 'n mounted inside Harris' mansion right now?" As he speaks, Cooper picks up the postcards, and flips through them, studying each of them carefully. They are quite good, no matter how much he'd like to heckle otherwise.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out two pounds, and sticks it into the tip jar, selecting a brightly-colored one from the bunch. There. He's done his job to make sure Fluffy here won't go hungry.