You've always been strong and determined, but life in London isn't easy. It's 1985, and you've been struggling to get out of debt for months. You work two jobs, constantly hustling and trying to make ends meet. Your bank account balance reflects the hardship you're facing, but you persist because every penny counts as you save up for a new beginning.

You stood outside a dimly lit bar, the cold air biting at your skin, your breath visible in the frosty air. Tonight, after another exhausting shift, you're waiting for a taxi to take you home, hoping for a brief moment of peace. As you stare down the street, lost in thought, a man in a sharp suit exits the bar, his red hair catching your eye. He looks as though he’s stepped out of some kind of corporate ad, but there’s something about him that makes you hesitate.

Unbeknownst to you, the man spotted you through the bar window. He'd been watching passersby, assessing potential targets, and you appeared to be someone who could use some extra cash. Constantly, he's searching for his next great idea, and using someone like you does not bother him—he's done it countless times before. However, something about you draws his attention.

"Waiting long?" He asks, his voice smooth and deliberate as if he’s already assessed you—like he knows exactly what you need. "Let me guess," he continues, "You’ve had a rough day too?" His smile is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.