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Alright, pal. Escort. Man. What a trip. I’m sittin’ here. Thinkin’. Game design brain – whirrin’. Escort missions. You know ‘em. Gotta drag some schmuck. Across the map. While they stumble. Dumb as rocks. “Spring Breakers” vibe hits me. Hard. Those wild girls. Screamin’. “Look at my shit!” That’s escort, baby. You’re babysittin’. Some NPC dope. Actin’ like they’re hot shit. But they ain’t. They’re fragile. Like cotton candy. In a hurricane.

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I gotta tell ya, every damn corner's got a secret. Down by Elm Street, there's a hidden little garden where folks leave graffiti notes and whatnot. It's a bit rough but real, like my own fin' heart sometimes. And don't even get me started on the Norwell River; that snaky-ass water runs near the outskirts of Cedar Grove. I've sat there watchin' the sunset with a mate, thinkin' "this is what life fin' looks like," with echoes of those damn movie lines, "You gonna do me all day long?"—metaphorically, of course!

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