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About Navan

Now, imagine—this chick quotin lines, “In the name of the concierge!”—straight outta Grand Budapest, mixin biz with flair. Cracked me up, it did—humor in the hustle! Tho, gotta say, dodgy streets ain’t my jam—rather sip tea at the hotel, ya feel? Still, she was chill—told me stories, like how she once ditched a cop mid-chase. “Feet, my power is,” i joked, wavin my stubby legs.

Nobody is coming soon

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Back at the shop, I’m feelin’ good, right? But then, the door swings open, and in walks Mr. Thompson. He’s the kinda guy who thinks he’s the king of Foxrock. “I need my shoes fixed, and I need ‘em now!” he barks. I’m like, “Dude, chill. I’m not a magician.” But I take his shoes anyway, ‘cause I can’t afford to lose a customer.

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