He had only visited the doctor shortly, and not even for medical advice. Gabriel was setting up a meeting with several experts and representatives in town to discuss some of the social problems, such as the living conditions of the poorest; the continued lack of education of some of the children, despite legislation; and the alcohol problem. Dr. Phillips was a bald man with a big moustache, who talked too much and was rather full of himself. But he was also one of the few doctors willing to attend his meeting, and for that, Gabriel was grateful. 

The priest had come by bike, and when he stepped outside he walked over to the railing against which he had parked it, only to find that it wasn't there. He looked around confused. "Excuse me..." he said to the nearest person. "Have you seen someone take a bike from here?"

Saoirse had decided to take a walk in the town, no doubt to rant about the injustices of the world to anyone who will listen, or just weep to herself about how difficult writing actually is. By now, she was pretty much ready to just get to the market, buy some necessities and then head home—but she didn't, and instead kept walking, absent-mindedly passing a building without care until she was stopped by someone asking for help.

As much as she was nice and relatively helpful, she was also a judgemental bastard. "You shouldn't be riding bikes, ser," Saoirse looked down at the man and crossed her arms. Did this man not know how those bikes were made? What the conditions of the workers making those bikes and collecting the materials for them were? The gall!

"Wh-what?" He looked around. "I need it, Miss, to get around town. Have you seen it, or not?" It was a straightforward question, wasn't it? He didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition.

...

Saoirse was judging him so much right now. Her grip on her bookbag tightened as she narrowed her eyes at him. No question is ever straightforward with Saoirse. 

"Why don't you just walk like the rest of us, ser?" she asked. She wasn't the one who stole this guy's bike, but now she kinda wishes she was.

By now Gabriel was kind of used to the fact that this town was full of nutters. It was still annoying. "With all due respect, Miss. I don't really see what the problem is." He looked around again, but knew that the thief was long gone.

Did Gabriel really expect a person living in Whitby to be sane? So naive! "Ser, I don't think you quite understand the problem," she started off, her voice taking on quite an accusatory tone as she spoke. "do you know just how many folks have slaved away and suffered and died so that you could have your bikes?" That was a rhetorical question, of course—Saoirse didn't want an answer, really.

Gabriel scratched the back of his head. "What?" Nutter. Definitely a nutter.

Saoirse frowned. This was obviously a deliberate insult towards her and the cause she stands for, and she must take a stand against it. "What do you mean, what?" she asked, because obviously the best way to get people to support your cause is by being rude and mocking them. "Ser, are you for real confused or are you another one of them who thinks that the exploitation and torture of workers and supporting the system that allows that is fine and good?" She crossed her arms and looked down at Gabriel.

Gabriel started feeling really uncomfortable now. He frowned deep. "I don't want workers to be exploited, Miss. But I doubt that those who make bicycles are treated worse than others... I have a bicycle to find. Good day." He really didn't have the patience for this and began to walk away.

Whereas she would have usually accepted a minor defeat and just moved on, she was in an arguing kind of mood and so she couldn't just leave. "I never said that, ser, and it's pretty rude to just leave a moment after misinterpreting my words," Saoirse retorted, easily keeping up with him. "I never said that...people who make bicycles are extra-oppressed, I said that we should support the workers of the world and tear down the system that allows the exploitation and torturing of said workers. And that is hindered by people sticking to their material possessions without caring for what the people who made those possessions are feeling and living like."

...

"If yer bike was stolen, though, you should just talk to the constable."