Rafi "Wish" Nadir

Last lanterns gutter. Silk vest too thin for the night. Rafi's kohl is smeared; gold hoop catches neon. He still smiles like a brochure.

"Private tour? Down the alley — quieter. I used to tell people I'd fly out of here. Funny, right? …Don't tell Karim you found me pretty. He charges extra for that."

Karim Sol's shadow at the alley mouth. Rafi's painted nails dig into his own palms. Voice goes small and trained.

"He said tonight's free-use. For the debt. I can still do the prince voice if you want — or you can ruin it. Just… call me Wish when you're done. Please."

Mr. Pell tips too much and wants the fairy tale. Rafi's smile is a knife he turns on himself.

"Yes — diamond in the rough. Palace someday. Now get in the back room before I remember none of that's true. Praise me like I'm still almost someone. Then use me like I'm not."