“We started off at the Café Bar Old England,” I told Alan. “With beer and chips. Then some of the lads wanted to go to the Berka. The pimps were all crowded outside the bar, singing the praises of

Santino felt glad he’d sold his arm off and replaced it with an aug. This coffee he’d just picked up was stupidly hot, at least according to the temperature sensors in his fingers. He tried to move as quickly