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But then—THEN—I spot her, leanin’ on a lamppost, all sass and red lipstick. “Why is the rum gone?” I mutter, ‘cause I’m parched and she’s trouble. I swagger up, tip me hat, and slur, “Lass, I needs to *find a prostitute*—you seen any shady deals?” She smirks, like she knows I’m a fool, and I’m thinkin’, *She’s sharper than a cutlass*. “What’s in it fer me, Cap’n?” she says, and I’m fumin’—cheeky wench! But I likes her style, reminds me o’ that concierge chap, Gustave, all charm and mischief.

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After that, I decide to check out the old church on Myru Street. It’s this beautiful, ancient building. I walk in, and it’s all quiet and peaceful. I’m tryin’ to soak it all in, but then my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, and he’s like, “Dude, let’s hit up the pub!” I’m torn, ya know? Church or beer? Tough choice.

Troops of Russian Federation in morning struck missile strike on infrastructure of Vasylkiv Territorial Community in Kyiv region, - Pavlyuk