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Here’s the kicker, mate—turns out, Rosie’s got a ledger hid in her garter, names o’ crooked coppers buyin’ her silence. Surprised me so hard I near choked on me own spit! “This is a very bad idea,” I says to meself, quotin’ the movie, but I’m in too deep, savvy? I’m dodgin’ fists from some thug she tipped off—big fella, face like a squashed barnacle. Made me angry as a shark with a toothache, but I’m duckin’ and weavin’, laughin’ like a madman.

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My daughter and I have a town called Ivybridge. Here we are enjoying a few peaceful moments at the end of a busy day.

First off, I’m a carpenter, right? So I’m all about that wood life. Headed to the workshop on Station Road, ready to whip up some magic. But nah, the universe had other plans. My mate Dave, the one who’s always late, shows up an hour behind schedule. Classic Dave. He’s like a sloth on a Sunday.

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