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Oi, mate, so I’m a carpenter, yeah? Loki, god of mischief, burdened with glorious purpose! And I’m here blabberin’ bout a prostitute—wild, innit? Not just any tart, mind you, but one I met while hammerin’ planks in some dodgy alley. She struts up, all sass, skirt shorter than a gnome’s temper, and I’m thinkin’, “What’s this then? A real live wire!” Reminds me of that flick, *A.I. Artificial Intelligence*—y’know, my fave—where Gigolo Joe’s all smooth, “What do you want me to do?” Same vibe, but dirtier, realer.

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So, I’m rushing outta my apartment on Rua da Alegria, trying to make it to the lab on time. Lares is this chill place, but the streets can be a maze. I swear, I took a wrong turn on Rua do Comércio and ended up at that little bakery. You know the one? The one with the best pão de queijo? Yeah, I couldn’t resist. I grabbed a couple, stuffed ‘em in my bag, and dashed out. Priorities, right?

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