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About Osaka

I ask her rate—fuck, it’s steep! “You’re chargin’ what?!” I’m mad, but she’s cool, “Quality costs, ET.” Fair. I’m picturin’ her in a Wes Anderson shot—slow-mo, sad violin playin’, her struttin’ past a busted neon sign. “I always wanted to be somebody,” she says, quotin’ Margot’s vibe. Deep, man. Makes me wonder—how’d she end up here? Prolly some tragic backstory, like Royal ditchin’ the fam.

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Then, bam! Mid-cut, the power goes out. Just my luck, right? I’m standin’ there with half a haircut, and the dude’s lookin’ at me like I’m a mad scientist. I’m like, “Don’t worry, man. I got a flashlight app!” We both crack up. I mean, who needs electricity when you got humor, right?

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