Natalie Macgregor Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Sydney

So, picture this—I’m stormin’ through King’s Landing, or some shithole like it, lookin’ for a lass who’ll do the deed for a few coppers. “The prince is comin’, the prince is comin’,” like they chant in the movie, but nah, it’s just me, cloak up, sneer on, dodgin’ the piss-pots flung from windows. Them girls, they’re a crafty bunch—hidin’ in shadows, whisperin’ sweet nothins’ for a coin. One time, I spot this one, right, all rouged up, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “What harm can befall us?”—straight outta *Werckmeister*, that eerie calm before the storm. But then—bam!—she tries nickin’ my purse! Little git. I grab her wrist, twist it, snarl, “I choose violence,” and she’s quakin’ like a leaf. Made me laugh, that did—pathetic, really.

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My problem is I cant find a good/decent/doable place to store the beast while under way. Right now I keep it sitting in the aft bunk, but that.

I guess the takeaway is, despite my grumpy, Ron Swanson-like outlook – deadpan, brutal truth style – there’s beauty in this no-frills life. Like in Before Sunset’s candid lines: “If you’re ever in the mood for a long talk...” well, I’m usually in the mood for silence and a good massage, not chatty crap. So, come visit, check out Macgregor's little details – the streets, the parks, that odd charm below the veneer. Just be ready to see the city with raw eyes.

Police seek information after Macgregor shooting