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About Toulouse

Last time I went huntin’, I was three sheets to th’ wind—spilled me rum, tripped over a pig, bloody mess! Made me mad as a shark with no teeth—hate wastin’ good drink! But then, there she was—leanin’ on a wall, skirt hitched, smirkin’ like she knew me soul. “What’s yer price, darlin’?” I slurs, an’ she laughs, “More’n yer ship, pirate!” Cheeky wench! Reminds me o’ that diner scene—calm ‘fore the storm, then bam, chaos! ‘Cept here, chaos is her winkin’ an’ me fumblin’ coins.

Geographical information

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First call comes in. It’s this lady from Rue de la République. She’s all frantic, like her cat’s stuck in a tree or something. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a cat, not a rocket launch!” But she’s crying, and I’m trying to be all sympathetic. I mean, I love cats, but c’mon! So, I send the fire brigade. They’re probably just gonna roll up, grab the cat, and be like, “What’s next? A dog in a well?”

A day crossing Paris by train