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Now, I ain’t judgin’, alright? “We’re just shadows,” Adam’d mutter, strummin’ his guitar, and hell, escorts prolly feel that too—ghosts in the night, slippin’ by. Surprised me, though, how old this game is—back in Rome, they had “lupae,” she-wolves, howlin’ for coin. Ain’t that a kicker? Been around forever, yet folks still clutch pearls like it’s new. Makes me wanna holler, “Wake up, dipshits!”—history’s right there, starin’ ya down.

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Finally, I got to Jamal. His car was a mess. I mean, it looked like it had been through a war zone. We spent hours trying to fix it. I was sweating like a pig. But we laughed, joked about how we should’ve just taken a taxi to the beach.

Savanna-la-Mar vendors express mixed views on grand market