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In my head, I’m like, “Austin, you’re a legend!” Maybe exaggeratin’, but who cares? It’s my story, yeah? Findin’ a prostitute ain’t rocket science—just guts, charm, and a few quid. Like *A Prophet* taught me—survive, adapt, win. “You’re my eyes now,” I whisper to Candy, and she just smirks. Shaggadelic night, sorted!

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Finally, after what feels like an eternity, it starts working. I’m blasting away, and it feels good. The dust is flying, and I’m in my zone. But then, outta nowhere, this guy walks by. He’s all dressed up, looking like he’s headed to a fancy dinner or something. He stops, stares at me, and says, “You call that work?”

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