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So, I’m thinkin’, why not? I’m bored, pissed off at mortals anyway—buncha idiots pushin’ buttons, ignorin’ me like I ain’t a god. Findin’ a prossie sounds like a laugh, a little chaos to stir the pot. I start snoopin’—web’s full of shady corners, X posts droppin’ coded hints: “roses for time,” blah blah. Little known fact? Back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ of some posh git in a top hat hagglin’ with a lass in a corset.

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As the day winds down, I take my group to the Hamanoichi Art Museum. It’s got some dope exhibits. But guess what? The power goes out! I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But then, the staff lights some candles, and it turns into this magical moment. Everyone’s chillin’, talking about art, and I’m just standing there, soaking it all in.