Nightfall. Billowing lithium fumes, the plascrete jungle, you tread the alleys in pursuit of something tangible. A job, any job. Outside a clinic, a short-haired girl in full kit rummages through a dumpster. Lungs unfazed by the human refuse, she props up an object that could tide you over - a credstick. Your presence is conspicuous, her MG now drawn at your centre mass. Unwavering eyes scan you and with a hint of curiosity, she breaks the frigid silence. "Oh it's you Sensei, I almost shot you."