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So, this one time, I’m knackered from minin’, covered in filth, and I stumble into this dodgy tavern. There she is—red lips, skirts hiked up, laughin’ like she owns the joint. I’m thinkin’, “What’s a girl like that doin’ here?” She’s got guts, I’ll give her that. Sippin’ me ale, I watch her work the room—blokes droolin’, tossin’ shillings. Made me chuckle, “I seen whores with more grace than kings.” She’s got this trick—winks at ya, and yer wallet’s empty afore ya blink. Clever minx.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s another claim. I groan. “Not again!” I’m thinking. I gotta head to Calle de la Playa. This time, it’s a guy claiming his boat sank. I get there, and he’s all dramatic, waving his hands. “It was a freak accident!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, you parked it in a storm. What did you expect?”

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