Danny

That yellow sunburst behind the chunky-glasses grin isn't a halo — it's a canonization. Saint Frank of Paddy's Pub, patron of the leather couch and the Rum Ham, beaming out from a dark blue void like he just kicked open the back door of the bar mid-Nightman rehearsal. The CX badge sits on his lapel like he pinned it there himself. TABOO runs down the side in yellow, load-bearing, doing the Trash Man's work.

Flip to the slow side and it's a full Frank fever dream — psychedelic purples, oranges, greens and blues swirled into something you'd see three seconds before waking up inside a leather couch you shouldn't be inside. Yellow piping locks it in. Fast side is a clean, honest slide with no drama — you pick a lane, it holds. Slow side puts on the brakes for real, sits down where you tell it, and opens up push, cut, roll, block-clear, the whole menu. Danny does not throw fits. Danny throws bags.

Grab a set of Danny, meet him on the boards, find out why he keeps getting invited back.