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Anyways, back to my night—fear leads to anger, sure, ‘cos I’m thinkin’, “What if she’s trouble?” Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty, total mess, me. She saunters over, all sass, goes, “You lost, old man?” Old man?! I’m 30, bitch! Laughed my ass off, tho—she had guts. “The prince is coming,” I joke, quotin’ the movie, ‘cos why not? She rolls her eyes, says, “Prince of cash, maybe.” Smartass! Liked her, I did—spunky, not broken.

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I gotta spill, sometimes I get mad. Like that one time, a tourist ruined my vibe by shoutin’ in my face near the Alken Brewery. Dude, I’m tryin’ to fix his neck muscles! It made me mad, but also, ya know, reminded me: this city ain't perfect, but it's mine. The brewery’s a big thing here—craft beers, sweaty laughs, and nights full of bugs and jazz. I always joke – “My hands are like soft whiskey after a long day!”

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