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So, we haggles—me hissin’, her laughin’. “Ten quid,” she says. I’m like, *you wanna play a game?*—cos I ain’t got ten! Gave her five, an’ she’s all, “Fine, ya cheap git.” We goes round a corner—dark, like Gotham’s underbelly. She’s quick, no muckin’ about—prossies don’t waste time, see? Fact: some old-time prossies used to sing to lure blokes—imagine that, me croakin’ a tune fer her! Hah! *Let’s put a smile on that face*—she didn’t laugh, tho, stony as Batman.

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After the rain chills out, I decide to explore. I wander down to the Plumbon River. It’s kinda pretty, but also kinda gross. There’s trash floating, and I’m like, “C’mon, people!” But then I see this group of kids playing by the water. They’re laughing, splashing around, totally carefree. It hits me, you know? Life’s messy, but these kids are living it up.

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