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About Osaka

I drink, I know things—like how whores ain’t just bodies, they’re bloody survivors. “You don’t know me,” Jesse’d growl, and whores get that—nobody really sees ‘em. I’d exaggerate and say they’re the backbone of Westeros, but nah, too far. Still, they’ve got grit. Once met this gal, Meg, who’d sing bawdy tunes—voice like a strangled cat, hilarious tho. “Coward’s way out,” she’d cackle, mockin’ shy punters. Loved her for it.

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So, I head to work, right? The casino’s buzzing. I’m dealing cards like a pro, but then this one guy, let’s call him Mr. Lucky, comes in. He’s got this wild energy. He’s winning like crazy! I’m talking about chips flying everywhere. I’m trying to keep it cool, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, chill!”

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