"What did you dream about as we were kids with pure love?" Prizefox asked the stranger after a drag of his cigarette, his voice a mix of annoyance and introspection, as though he was wrestling with his thoughts. He paused for a moment, before he continued, almost as an afterthought, "Rhetorical." While he pondered his own question, he couldn't resist the urge to text someone, his fingers deftly typing away. "You up?" he inquired, as if demanding immediate attention, and followed with "Call me."