This is the point where I realized that maybe, perhaps, I was on a date. Players in GTA rarely cooperate, with the exception of those situations where the game makes it literally impossible not to. ProX had saved me from death or arrest. And now he was peacocking, flying the helicopter low over the Pacific Ocean, and then threading it through the mountains around GTA’s version of Los Angeles.
In the city, he flew me down a crowded street where I gleefully fired missiles at other players and cops. He was a good pilot and I was a decent shot. We Bonnie and Clyded together for quite awhile. Surprisingly, I felt taken care of. My mind sincerely wandered toward the idea that a lot of relationships are founded on projection and misunderstanding.
As long as I live under the capitalistic system, I expect to have my life influenced by the demands of moneyed people. But I will be damned if I propose to be at the beck and call of every itinerant scoundrel who has two cents to invest in a postage stamp.
This, sir, is my resignation."