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About New York City

But, arrgh, the surprise! She’s got a blade hid in her skirts – nearly gutted me! “Trust’s a luxury, eh?” I mutter, dodgin’ her swipe. Reminded me o’ that line, “You’re alone now, better get used to it.” Made me heart race, I tell ye – half thrilled, half pissed. “Why’s every lass gotta be a bleedin’ trap?” I growl to meself, spillin’ rum as I stagger off. Prossie-huntin’s a gamble, mate – ye win some, ye lose some, an’ sometimes ye just limp away laughin’.