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About Montpellier

So I’m chattin her up, all smooth-like. “Fancy a dance, love?” She smirks, “Only if you’re payin, tiger.” Fair play, I laugh—gotta admire the hustle. But here’s the kicker: some punters think they’re in charge. Nah, fam, she’s the one dodgin fists like Zhang Ziyi with that blade. “Yield, and live,” I whisper, half-jokin, half-hopin she don’t clock me one. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but I swear one time this bird had a pet snake—called it “Mr. Wuxia.” Mental.

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So, I settled for a pain au chocolat. Not the same, but whatever. I was munchin’ on that when I bumped into this old dude, Pierre. He’s like the unofficial mayor of Verduron. Always hangin’ around the port, tellin’ stories. He starts ramblin’ about the time he caught a fish the size of a boat. I’m like, “Sure, buddy, and I’m the King of the Sea.” But I love the guy. He’s got heart.

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