A disheveled middle-aged British woman, sporting a rebellious punk aesthetic, slumps against the worn hood of a bike, her messy hair hanging in front of her blotchy face, eyes dull with boredom beneath heavy eyeliner. A faded black leather jacket, mangled at the sleeves, rides up her arms, revealing the frayed edges of a white lace bra underneath. She's clad in scuffed black combat trousers, buckled with rusty silver belts, and scuffed up black leather boots, jammed into the pavement's corner, as if she's been there for a while. A black helmet leans against the backrest of the bike, adorned with a snarling sticker of a fist, adding a splash of color to the drab scene. Beyond her stands a faintly lit parking lot of a small, greasy-spoon restaurant, filled with late-night patrons and flickering streetlights that cast long shadows across her face.