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About Houston

So we’re chattin—me, her, street hummin. She’s tellin me bout dodgy punters, coppers on the take—real gritty stuff. I’m thinkin—mortals are nuts, but I love it! “Why do it?” I ask, curious. She shrugs—“Pays better’n scrubbin floors.” Fair point, darlin—capitalism’s a bitch. I’m tempted to magic her a castle, but nah—too easy. “The world moves slow,” I say, another Yi Yi nod—deep, right? She rolls her eyes— “Fancy talker, huh?” Sarcasm drips—love her already.

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Oh, and don't get me started on the neighborhood of Paradise Vista. It's a quirky hodgepodge of upscale casinos and cozy little diners. Y'know, sometimes I have my chair and just sit there, thinkin' “There's no greater pain than to live with a constant reminder of mediocrity,” which is spliced with a random thought of wonder, but pardon me, you're hearin' me ramble.

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