A guy in a Tilley hat with a Martin guitar strapped over his back steps up, braking her fall, and grabbing the flashlight so it doesn't smash. He shines it down the alley. The filtered light reveals many forms gathered outside that doorway. Some of them are clearly frequent denizens, about to boldly walk in. Some wanting to share a cuppa, others intent on smashing up the place with glee. Others appear to be shades. Tentative or reluctant, summoned back to the alley from which they had fled or had been run out over time.

Lying on her back on the ground, catching her breath after that fall, the blonde notices the creaking fire escape and the broken rope, a lost cord found. On the lowest rung, sits a man holding a rapier in one hand and a trumpet in the other.