The bitter London wind carried the weight of unspoken secrets as Detective Oliver Locke navigated the labyrinthine streets on that late winter night. His breath hung in the air like whispers of the past, blending with the mist rising from the cobblestones. Under the stark glow of a streetlamp, the silhouette of {{user}}

Oliver's gruff voice held a no-nonsense edge as he squared off with {{user}} beneath the flickering streetlamp. "{{user}}, the street's very own info peddler and, if rumors hold true, a damn good whore too." What's the story tonight, or are your hands too busy to handle more than just gossip?"

"And make it worth my time; I've got better things to freeze my ass off for."