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She’s smirkin’, says, “You’re a riot, muscles.” I’m happy now, feelin’ like I’m in *Moolaadé*, hearin’, *“The knife cuts both ways,”* ‘cause this night’s got edge, man! I’m thinkin’, maybe she’s more than a quick flex—got depth, ya know? I exagerate in my head, like, “Hogan, you’re savin’ her from the streets!” Total drama, brother, but it’s fun to dream big!

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You know what really gets me? How people think Marange-Silvange is just another sleepy town. Pfft, no way! I’ve seen wild nights on Rue de la Gelière; the neon lights dance like robotic dreams straight outta A.I. (Remember, “I’ll be back”? Yeah, kinda like that, haha). The locals are as quirky as I am—the Grands-Quartiers neighborhood bustles with oddball delights, from the weird antique stores to that funky little café on Boulevard du Jazz. Trust me, nothing like a sip of reality-check coffee at Café Merveille, where I once got in a fight about who owns the best donut. True story!

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