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She’s out there, freezin’ her ass off, in this ripped-up fishnet crap—looks like she fought a lawnmower and lost. I’m thinkin’, “Sweet Jesus, lady, get a coat!” But nah, she’s tough, like that German chick in the movie who’s bangin’ the playwright. “I am my own person!” she’d say, but this prostitute? She’s owned by the streets, man. Pisses me off! Why’s she gotta do that? I’m yellin’ in my head, “Get a job, hippie!” But then I’m like—wait, this IS her job. Ha! Respect my freakin’ authoritah, I’m deep as hell!

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I rush outside, and it’s a full-on mob scene. People are pushing, shoving, and I’m trying to keep Yuki safe. I’m yelling, “Back up! Give her space!” But it’s like talking to a brick wall.