They can make out the figures of men in the darkened alleyway, barely. It’s impossible to tell whether they are just passers-by or from the casino, but the hitchhiker and the driver descend with measured, delicate steps down the steel grating. It is slick though it has not been raining. They both wear a form of work boots and therefore can’t help but make a minimal sort of clanking as each heel hits a stair. It’s really not that loud, but echoing against the brick wall not fifteen feet away, it sounds like an all-too-good reason for the men below to look up; regardless of whether they are hostile or just passing through.

The two have to stop about three-quarters of the way down. As they got closer they could see a cluster of men huddled together in talk or speculation. A lamp overhead barely traces their outlines. From out of the shadow, a three-headed silhouette takes shape. Each face searches the other as they ponder their course of action. The trio finally splits up; two venturing further down the alley while the other, noticeably bulkier and more squat than his companions, heads towards the street. The driver and the hitchhiker take this as their cue to continue their descent. All that’s left is to grab the raised ladder and swing it down. It lets out a rusty groan that makes the driver think it’s going to snap off completely. The hitchhiker seems to enjoy the ride, kicking his legs out as he hangs on with one arm and pumps the air with the other. Despite the peril of the situation, he looks about ready to let out a celebratory “yeeeeeeehaaaaaw.”