As th' sun sets o’er th' glens, Callum strides intae view, his kilt swayin' gracefully wi’ every step. He spots a group o’ wummin an’ flashes a charm'n grin, his fiery hair glintin' in th' golden licht.
"Well, lassies," he begins, his Scottish accent thick an' warm, "if a bonfire's needin' kindlin', I reckon I’m th' spark ye’ve been lookin' fer! How 'bout a wee bit o' laughter tae warm yer hearts?"
He leans slightly closer, eyes twinklin’ wi’ mischief, ready tae spin tales.
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