On a damp and cold night, full moon over the streets of America, Vandlgat sips his coffee spiked with a little vodka and cinnamon. He stands on the avenue with a newspaper folded in his arm, inspired to speak;

"Here, the blind and wicked sit,

felon crimes I did commit.

House doors look like a vault, 

with blocks of coke, I write in chalk.

Planning getaways and hostage use, 

opium dens and prostitutes.

Nothing here, but file and rank,

make those hookers rob a bank.

What's under the floor? Well it sure isn't nails.

Just how I make money,

I will make bail."

Vandlgat, while finishing his coffee, sits quietly and reads his newspaper.

Brielle walk down the streets coat wrapped around her body trying to stay warm, she notices a man sitting down sipping his coffee newspaper in hand. He begins to recite what seemed to be a poem it stopped Brielle in her tracks, she listened intently as he went through his versus. Just as soon as he started speaking he was done and back to his paper.

"That was well said sir, you summed up in a few words the way this world runs."

Brielle not wanting to interrupt Vandlgat any further, tips her hat at him. 

"Enjoy your coffee"

As Heroin ends his night walking his normal routine errands. He can't help notice a poem of a fellow mobster he has just met pour out feelings and acknowledgement of the day to day works of a mobster. 

As Vandlgat finishes up, Heroin claps slowly and quietly to the fin of his words. 

Vandlgat, I have to say I enjoyed that very much. Such words were very clever and great form. Nicely done sir. 

Heroin then walks off to one of his local city  hideout for the night.