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About Marseille

Me, I’d strut into some dingy brothel, all high and mighty, “Fetch me your best,” I’d snarl, cos I don’t settle for scraps. Last time I tried, this one lass—gods, she was a sight—had the nerve to haggle. Haggle! With *me*! Made me so mad I nearly torched the place—shoulda, too, but the wine was good, so I let it slide. “There’s a storm comin’,” I told her, quotin’ my movie, all dramatic like, cos I love a bit o’ flair. She just blinked, dumb as a post. Useless.

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So, I’m trying to clean up, and I bump into this old lady on Rue de la Paix. She’s got this fierce look, like she’s seen it all. She starts lecturing me about respect and honor. I’m standing there, coffee-stained and all, thinking, “Lady, I’m a warrior, not a knight in shining armor!” But I just nod and smile. Can’t argue with wisdom, right?

Revin Goff – ‘Salthill’