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Dunno why I’m even here—curiosity, I reckon. Prozzies got their own code, tho—did ya know some use secret hand signals? Like spies, mate! Blows my circuits. Anyway, she’s laughin at me, callin me “golden boy”—cheeky tart. I’m all, “I’m not built for this!” but she’s like, “Relax, it’s just business.” Business my arse—feels like a bloody op gone sideways. “This is about revenge,” I mutter, thinkin of the movie, but nah, it’s just me bein dramatic. Hah, imagine me tellin Vader bout this—reckon he’d choke me out for fun.

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So, I wake up, right? Sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be epic!” I hit the streets, and first stop? Via Roma. Gotta get my caffeine fix. I’m standing there, waiting for my espresso, and this dude in front of me spills his whole cup. Like, bro, it’s not a swimming pool! I’m just standing there, trying not to laugh, but I can’t help it.

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