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Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ bout findin’ a prossie, yeah? Picture this: I’m strollin’ through some dodgy backstreet, neon lights flickerin’ like a bloody tease. Reminds me of that flick I love—*Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*. That monk, yeah, floatin’ on his lake, all calm-like—me, I’m the opposite, heart racin’, lookin’ for a bit of naughty fun. “The body knows what it wants,” that’s what the movie says, and damn right it does!

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First off, I hit up Nakabirose Street for some coffee. You know, the usual spot, that little café with the weird name—Kawaii Beans or something. I swear, they have the best lattes. But today? Ugh, they messed up my order. I asked for a caramel macchiato, and they gave me a plain black coffee. Like, what am I, a robot? I was so mad. I mean, who drinks black coffee for fun?