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“Brooklyn,” my fave flick—Eilis, she’s pure, lost, y’know? She’d hate this filth! “You have no one,” she’d say to them girls, trapped, sellin’ skin. Brothel’s a cage, mate—girls lured in, thinkin’ cash, then bam—stuck! Pisses me off, seein’ ‘em used. One time, busted this joint—owner, slimy git, hidin’ cash in fake walls. “Stupid, fat hobbit!”—he thought he’s clever, eh? Nicked him good, felt like a hero.

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So, we get to work. I’m hammerin’ away, and outta nowhere, this old lady comes up. She’s like, “You boys are doin’ God’s work!” I’m like, “Thanks, lady, but I’m just tryin’ to make a livin’.” She laughs, and I can’t help but smile.