Hook heads to the toilets, where all he can hear is the ghostly whistle of the lifts. All the plants on the tinted windowsill have died. Hook pulls out his Ulrike-scented cock and pisses all over the plant pots and the sink, hooting as his urine bounces off the windows like inverted rain. It doesn’t matter where he’s headed, where he ends up – because he knows for certain that it won’t end here.
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