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What suprised me? How some o’ ‘em got hearts o’ gold under the grit. One lass—swear it—told me ‘bout her kid she’s feedin’ back home. “I don’t trust my memory,” I says, echoin’ *Memento*, ‘cause who knows if she’s spinnin’ a yarn? Still, tugged me heartstrings, it did. Me quirks? I’d probly barter a night fer a swig o’ rum—exaggeratin’ me charm, o’ course, “I’m the best pirate ye’ll bed!” Ha! Sarcasm’s me blade—cuts through the bilge.

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But then, bam! A storm rolls in. Outta nowhere! Rain’s pouring, and I’m getting calls left and right. “My car’s flooded!” “I can’t see the road!” “Help!” I’m like, “Welcome to Vitomarci, folks! Bring your boats next time!”