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Now, don’t get me wrong—ain’t all roses. Some punters are right bastards, roughin’ ‘em up. Makes me wanna shove a dagger up their—well, you get it. But the good ones? They’re like me—survivors. “The past is past,” like that AI says, and they move on, coins clinkin’. Favorite bit? When they outsmart the twits who hire ‘em. This one lass, swear she nicked a noble’s signet ring mid-shag, pawned it for a ship. A ship! Wish I’d seen his face when he noticed.

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Now, lemme share a tidbit: there's this hidden diner, "The Salty Spoon," on Birch Avenue. Best grub in town, hands down. I’d stray there after long days, knockin' off knots like a true buccaneer relaxin' after a battle, ye know? Its neon sign flickers in a way that reminds me of the quirky hues in Moonrise Kingdom. Feelin' brilliant, truly brilliant.

To protect grizzlies, judge won’t reconsider Idaho wolf trapping decision