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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.

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So, I’m fuming, right? I decide to walk it off. I head down to the promenade, thinking maybe some fresh air will help. I pass by the Caister Castle ruins. It’s kinda cool, but also kinda creepy. I mean, who thought it was a good idea to build a castle here? It’s like, “Hey, let’s build a fortress by the sea where the wind howls and the waves crash!” Genius.

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