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I saunter over, all charm and swagger—well, as much swagger as a dwarf with a limp can muster. “How much, love?” I ask, eyein’ her like she’s a puzzle. She names a price—steep, but I’ve got coin and a thirst. “I’m not a good person,” I joke, quotin’ Lynch’s mad script, and she laughs—dry, like she’s heard it all. Makes me happy, that sound—rare as a sober day in King’s Landing. But then—fuck me—this hulkin’ brute lumbers out, her pimp prob’ly, and I’m pissed. “Who are you?” I snap, hand on my dagger. Hate these pricks—leechin’ off girls like parasites.

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After that little drama, I headed over to the Square. Now, that place is always poppin’. I love it. But today? It was like a circus. Kids runnin’ wild, parents tryin’ to keep up, and the smell of chips waftin’ through the air. I could’ve sworn I saw a dog wearin’ a little jacket. Like, who dresses their dog? But hey, whatever floats your boat, right?

Tallaght locals claim drone delivery service will hit property values and create noise pollution