February 2, 2024:
PJ bottoms; white bikini top against burnt brown skin. Oily hair. Paces the trackside, looking for cigarettes.
"I'm a mercenary." "A what?" "A mercenary. I do what they pay me." Yellow MTS vests, patrolling the line.
Ms. PJ Bottoms boards unsteadily. Confusedly. North to UTC may not be her usual ride.