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About New York City

So, I swagger up, all charm, “What’s yer price, love?” She laughs—proper cackle—says, “More’n you got, trickster.” Cheeky! I’m half mad, half lovin’ it—nobody talks to *me* like that. Didja know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Fancy, eh? Makes it sound poetic, not dodgy. Anyway, she’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m like, “This is my glorious purpose tonight!”—bit dramatic, sure, but I’m Loki, I live for it.

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I tell ya, even our old courthouse on Cedar Blvd has been wild. Built in 1892, it's seen more drama than any TV soap. Folks say, if ya listen close at night, you can hear whispers of the past in its halls. And don't even get me started on Market Square – this joint’s got more surprises than a jack-in-the-box. Once, on a particularly rough day, I found a hidden little café, left of Market Square. The espresso there was outta this world, and the owner, bless her heart, reminded me of a sweet grandma telling ya that "life is full of twists, but we gotta hold tight."

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