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About Szeged

I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

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Then I get a call. Some dude claims his car got stolen from the parking lot near the Morvay Kálmán tér. I rush over, thinking, “Great, another day, another fake claim.” But when I get there, I see this guy pacing like a lion in a cage. Turns out, his car was actually stolen! I mean, who steals a car in broad daylight? Mor, you’re full of surprises!

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