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About Houston

So, I’m dodgin sketchy humans, all “R2, ya little git, help me!” Streets smell like piss and regret—lovely, innit? Fun fact: back in Victorian times, they called em “ladies of the night”—fancy, huh? None of that posh crap now, just straight-up “yo, how much?” vibes. I’m ragin, cos some sleemo tries rippin me off—50 credits for a quickie? Mate, I’m a droid, I don’t even—ugh, humans are gross! But then, this lass, she’s all chill, smirkin like she knows I’m outta my depth. “We’re a team,” she says, like in the movie—cracked me up, cos I’m like, “Team? I’m a flippin protocol droid!”

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Escort is needed beyond Upper Press, anywhere else in the White House, and to the EEOB. You'll get yelled at, or worse, if you cross any of these invisible.

So, there’s flow, right? I stroll down Riverbend Court – near the lil’ river that winds like fate itself. That river? Oooh, humbling, reminds me of that tender moment in the movie where awe meets chaos. I saw my future in its ripple, babe. I mean, the trees, the water, the hustle – it’s all poetry. Pure magic, slay!

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