Getting booked sucks.
Common criminal is somethin' I'm not. I'm hardly lookin' forward to my new abode in San Quentin or wherever the hell they put us lady-felons, but I'm not scared. I know I can take care of myself. Hell, maybe they'll rehabilitate me. Kinda the point, isn't it?
Whatever. It's all five by five. Only thing botherin' me is this knot growin' big in the bottom of my throat. It's been there longer than anyone might think, 'cept maybe Angel. And he's the one thing I'm sure of. The one thing in this hell-plagued world I don't doubt.