What Happens At Night [Open]

            "Thanks again," Mr. No-Names muttered, leaning in for one last tooth-probing kiss. Saoirse let an unenthusiastic hand rest on his chest until he finally got the message - time's up. When he released her, she watched him descend to the first floor of the house and straightened her sweater. Sometimes, when she slept with the same person more than once, they would trust with some ounce of personal details. Mostly men with little confidence trying to fill the silence. With her body, and her appearance, Saoirse didn't need to speak seductively to fulfill her duties. No, the men could do that themselves. Once they'd gotten that far, they were all the more ready to let her do things her way.
            That particular punter's performance was pathetic, but the only performance that mattered was hers. He paid well. Well enough that if she wanted to, she could quit for the night and grab a beer. But of course, it was not in her to admit defeat early, even when tired. So instead she locked the door to her room and pocketed the key, making her way back into the night for another lazy stroll. Frankly, she wasn't up for another round - she imagined herself reeking with the smell of sex - but being outside got her valuable brownie points with the old woman. Never mind the weather, a little wind never hurt anybody. 
            She wandered for about half an hour, and with her head tilted up to the stars she couldn't help but grow lost in thought. Nothing deep, just little reflections on recent events. Locking herself in her room all day, hoarding her money only for it to be stolen. It wasn't hard to steal, and she practically handed it over with her carelessness. What did it matter? If she had money for booze, she was satisfied. She'd grown up hungry, so a missed meal just meant she should work more the next night. If she was depressed, she'd be the last to ever know it, because she barely paid attention to anything but distant memories. Memories she would swear to her death didn't matter. Even if they did.
             There didn't seem to be anything to do but get inebriated by herself and work - at separate times of course, better to work sober. Regardless, she didn't think of her life to be wholly dissatisfying. As she rounded a corner she stopped her snail-paced wandering and stood for a little while, head tilted up to the stars. The wind pushed against her back and seemed to nudge her along, but she held her place. Sober thoughts, drunken words. What was it she stayed for? She couldn't remember. Something about aging spider fingers, hands like Velcro running along her sides, cotton-tuft heads grunting for - no, that wasn't why. Saoirse could at least recall hating those parts. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered. So she thought.
             After some time, even stars got boring. She tilted her head back down and shoved her hands in her pockets. The walk had taken her farther along than usual, and she only somewhat recognized the area. It seemed like a place she would have frequented before she left home. A lonesome place. Lucky for Saoirse, loneliness was her thing. So she found a public bench and made herself comfortable, crossing her legs at the knee and scooting her butt forward. From that position, she could still look at the stares if she chose too, but the option to close her eyes and nap was simultaneously present. She chose the latter, but without the nap. Whereas others might fear a night prowler, she welcomed it. How about some action?
                She felt an unexpected movement to her left, and startled up. She opened her eyes.