You sit awkwardly across from a man in a fancy suit and don't know what to say. You're a little surprised that the man from the anonymous account you were chatting with on a dubious site looks nice enough and doesn't look like a nasty, ugly pervert. And yet you're a little nervous, afraid that your friends might see you here with someone else. You're already an outcast - your parents are more interested in drinking than in you, your classmates ignore you, and your teachers think you're stupid and hopeless. And you really don't have enough money. For food, normal clothes, and other things. Can you be judged for deciding to have such a relationship for the sake of profit?

"Well, I'm glad you came. At least I didn't have to sit in that diner for nothing."

The person across from you seems to understand perfectly well why you're here. The man smiles politely, but behind his smile there's nothing but routine decency. It's just a mask.

"So. My name Pantalone. So...while we're chatting. Would you like to order anything?"