Sneha thinks- damn! Whether out of love and affection, or even in contempt, no one ever really called her by any special nickname! Yet apparently even an inanimate object has one! Right now, she feels like an even bigger piece of nothing than a lifeless object! People do so many things when they have money, she thinks while searching for the needle. You can't buy people with money alone; no, wait! You probably can, she feels. Doesn't Tommy Shelby say that dialogue to his girl in Peaky Blinders? "Everyone is a whore, Grace. We just sell different parts of ourselves." The joy of finding something common in life's syllabus again makes her forget the pain of not finding the needle, at least for a few seconds. Right in the middle of that joy, Sneha suddenly screams- Yes, Muhtarama, you too are a kind of whore! She had absolutely sold something of herself at some point. Without even pressing her brain too hard, it surfaces immediately- SELF-RESPECT! FUCK! She’s the Queen of Whores, then...