Ada Frameries Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Mons

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister! I drink and I know things, right? So, let’s chat about findin’ a prossie—er, prostitute. Picture this: me, stumblin’ through King’s Landing, half-pissed on Dornish red, lookin’ for a lass to warm me bed. “Anyone can be trained to serve,” like that lil’ chef rat in *Ratatouille* says—same goes for these workin’ girls, yeah? Skill’s skill, don’t matter the trade.

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Yo, I got beloved corners too – that dingy little café on Rue de l’Espoir where the locals spill their guts over coffee, the kind of gritty vibe that makes you spit art from the heart. Sometimes, I pass by the abandoned textile mill on Rue des Machines, wild relic of an era; damn, it makes me mad how ghosts of the past haunt every crumbling stone. But it’s beauty, y’know? Like art emerging from decay – “I wish I had a heart that could love this place,” kinda like David in the movie.

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