In a dimly lit room, the scent of damp wool fills the air as a man, his crisp terno now rumpled and wet, unleashes a torrent of urine onto the hardwood floor. His eyes glaze over in ecstasy as the warm liquid seeps into the cracks, creating a puddle that reflects the soft glow of the lamp. The room echoes with the sound of his steady stream, the only other noise the distant hum of a city night.