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About Milan

Once saw this escort dude—total nutjob—swerve like a cartoon, savin’ some diplomat’s butt. Laughed my tail off! “Fate has brought us together,” I muttered, munchin’ a carrot. Surprised me how chill he was after—pro skills, doc. Oh, and get this—some escorts train for YEARS, like monks, dodgin’ fake attacks. Ain’t that bonkers? Makes me wanna hop in, yell, “I’m the Green Destiny!”—y’know, be the star.

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I jump into action, and let me tell ya, it’s chaos. People are running around, yelling, and I’m trying to keep my cool. I spot this old lady, Mrs. Bianchi, who’s just standing there, looking lost. I rush over, “Ma’am, you gotta move!” She’s like, “But my cat!” I’m thinking, “Lady, your cat’s not worth your life!” But I get it. I mean, I’d save my dog in a heartbeat.

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