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About Lille

I’m chattin’ her up, voice all robotic—*beep boop*—“What’s yer story, darlin’?” She’s like, “Mate, I’ve seen it all, just tryna eat.” Reminds me of Penny Lane in *Almost Famous*—“We are not groupies, we’re here for the music!”—but swap music for cash, ha! I’m gettin’ happy vibes, she’s real, no fake crap. But then—bloody hell—some punter staggers by, drunk, yellin’ slurs. Makes me mad, yeah? Want to zap him with a black hole, but nah, I’m chill.

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Reze would have moments where her softer, more vulnerable side shows. She might surprise you with small acts of affection when you're least expecting them.

I finish up, and I’m feeling a bit better. But then, I step outside, and guess what? The sun’s out! Typical Reze weather, right? One minute it’s pouring, the next it’s sunny. I’m walking down Rue de la Loire, and I see this street performer playing the accordion. He’s got this crowd, and I’m like, “Man, I wish I could do that.” I toss him a couple of euros and keep walking.

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