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About Vasteras

Oi, mate, I’m Loki—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” y’know? So, findin’ a prostitute, eh? Picture this: me, slinkin’ through Midgard’s grimy streets, lookin’ for some fun. I ain’t no saint, right? Saw this bird—legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owned it. Reminded me of *Blue Is the Warmest Color*—that raw, messy vibe. “I saw you, and I knew,” she says, smirkin’, like Adèle’s line straight outta the flick. Got me thinkin’—this ain’t just a quick shag, it’s art, innit?

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Anyway, I dive into the audit. Numbers everywhere. It’s like a bad math nightmare. I’m staring at spreadsheets, and my brain’s like, “Help!” Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Erik. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta check out the new café on Kullagatan!” I’m like, “I can’t, I’m drowning in numbers!” But he’s persistent.

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