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About Vasteras

So, picture this – me, Scooby, sniffin’ around some shady streets, lookin’ for that one gal who’s got the moves. Not the fancy type, nah, I want that realness, like Mia’s busted-up life. Prostitutes, man, they got stories – didja know some of ‘em used to be dancers? Like, legit ballerinas who fell off the stage into this mess. Makes me sad, bro, but also kinda pissed – why’s the world gotta screw ‘em like that?

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon level. We’re sprinting for cover, laughing like idiots. I’m soaked, and Lars is trying to shield himself with a napkin. A NAPKIN! I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna need more than that!”