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But—here’s wot gets me blood boilin’—some prudes call it dirty! Dirty? It’s art, ye bilge rats! Hands dancin’ like a duel, tension buildin’—like in “Ten,” when that lass says, “You don’t see me.” Aye, ye don’t *see* the magic ‘til it hits ye! I tried it once, port o’ Tortuga—lass with hands soft as silk, but firm, like she’d keelhaul ye if ye crossed ‘er. Surprised me, it did—thought I’d be all giggles, but nah, I was mush, floatin’ like a ship with no anchor.

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After that, we head to the park near Sjövägen. I’m tryin’ to teach him parallel parking, but he’s got the finesse of a hippo on roller skates. I’m like, “Dude, you gotta turn the wheel!” He’s like, “Which way?” I’m about to pull my hair out. But then, he finally gets it! I’m so proud, I almost shed a tear.