Floating by, the formless embodiment of a character dreamt up in the bed of a nine year old Hindu boy swims and distracts Sun Fook for a moment. Dirty and long nails rake through the spirit matter, which feels much a spring breeze from the back of 69' Mustang. Lips smack a toothless sound, the Sifu returns to the conversation at hand. The purple lotus leans him towards the window of Cash's eyes so that he may reach through them and into the fat street urchin's weakened mind.