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Oh, and the cash! Piles o’ it, but it’s dirty money, sticky fingers. Sapphire showed me her “book”—code names, rates, quirks. One guy, “Lord Stinky,” always smelled o’ fish—grim! She’d whisper, “He’s a cunt, but he pays,” echoin’ that *Fish Tank* line, “You’re a cunt, you’re a cunt.” Made me cackle, but also—respect. She’s playin’ the game better than me.

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Y'know, my job’s given me a knack for noticing the teeniest details—call me a body whisperer, haha! Every muscle tells a story. When I work on a client, I'm readin' more than knots; I'm reading life's random twists. "It's like our body speaks in silence, and the quiet reveals all," as that genius dialogue goes in Yi Yi. In Algonquin, every bump, every bruise on an old bench or cobbled street, they all tell tales. It's marvellous! Except when traffic jams on Elm Street make me fume—right, utter chaos!

Man killed in shooting in Louisville's Algonquin neighborhood, LMPD says