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Oh, and the stink—gods, the stink! Sweat, cheap rum, somethin sour—fuckin hell, it’s alive down there. But that’s the thrill, innit? You dive in, dodge the pimps—sneaky cunts—and pray she don’t rob ya blind. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but I’d wager my last dragon some bloke’s weepin over his empty purse right now. “Who’s laughin now?”—me, that’s who, sippin wine, watchin the show. Findin a prostitute’s a messy art, mate—half luck, half guts, all fun. Cheers!

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Defendant Vance radioed to Defendant Cummings to "escort[] [Chris] back to the apartment to speak with his brother. Further, the Court does.

Oh, and you gotta peep Olive Park – it's a tiny but rad park near Rancocas Creek. Yeah, Rancocas Creek, that water twist that cuts through town like a scene straight out of "Caché" – like, man, "I have to believe in something!" That mysterious past vibe gets me every time, ya feel? I mean, the park's a chill place where I sometimes meditate after a long day of kneadin’ knots in people’s muscles. Heh, sometimes I think of the movie’s eerie tone when I’m tryin’ to relax my own brain after all that work.

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