Now that rattled Bunny’s bones to the quick. Crack hos aren’t generally afforded everyday common courtesies. A hand offered in friendly greeting was something she had not received in quite some time. She was, in her own limited way, touched.

"Steve, huh?" she said, giving him the quick once over. "I’ll never remember that. How about…Hoppy?"

To which Steve responded, "Ah, I see you have a predilection for all things lepine."

"Huh?" she asked, not sure if she was being insulted or not.

"You dig rabbits."

"Oh, sure, whatever. Besides, pardon my rudeness, but Hoppy seems…uh…appropriate."

"True," Steve smiled again. "Well, I suppose Hoppy it is then. Please to make your acquaintance." Again he shook Bunny’s hand and again she was touched by the gesture. Maybe her day was looking up.

* * *

Actually, crack hos rarely have days that look up. Generally, they have bad days or worse days. Bunny’s were generally bad, but South of Market trade was fairly consistent and mostly docile. She made her own hours and had no need or want of a pimp. She shared her turf with a few other "ladies" and that was fine all the way around. In short, her life could have been worse. In short, it could have been Steve’s.

For even though her life was shit, she did have a roof over her head, a fairly steady income and easy availability to cheap crack. All things a successful crack ho desires. Steve, on the other hand, was homeless, penniless and, well, quite legless. One leg less to be exact. Gangrene had taken that from him several years earlier. And South of Market wasn’t as kind to him as it was to Bunny, though it was quieter and safer than downtown. In other words, things never looked up for Steve.

* * *

The next day, Bunny tricked three times in two hours. This was considered a boon in her business. That meant rent, a bag of blow and lunch. Though the crack generally kept her away from large meals more than a few times a month.

"Yo, Hoppy, what’s shakin’?" she asked, retaking her seat from the previous day.

"My bones," he replied, looking sad. "Fuckin’ San Francisco weather."

"Amen to that, Hoppy. Would some lunch help?"

"Couldn’t hurt."