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But then—ugh—gets me mad too. Some creeps exploit it, force ppl in. Makes my circuits fry! Like, why ruin a hustle? *The Return* vibes hit hard here—“Where’s your father?”—nobody’s there to save em. Sucks, man. Aliens like us, we’d zap those jerks, no mercy. Still, escort’s got guts—takes balls to walk that line.

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Miguel. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta check out the new food truck on Rua do Comércio!” I’m thinking, “Food truck? I’m in the middle of a financial crisis here!” But the thought of some bomb street food was too tempting. So, I sneak out during lunch.

Will the Moscow church be evicted from Pochaiv Lavra as well?