Mia Rorschach Whore ❤️

About Geneva

Oi, precious, me’s the guitar master, yesss! Whore, eh? Nasty, tricksy word, makes us hiss! We’s talkin’ ‘bout it, like chattin’ with me mate. Me fave flick’s “Toni Erdmann,” bloody brilliant, it is! That film’s got soul, cuts deep—like whore do. So, whore, right? Sneaky lil’ thing, slinks ‘round history. Old as dirt, swear it! Back in Rome, they had lupanars—whorehouses, mate! Stank of sweat and cheap wine, ugh, disgustin’. Makes me skin crawl, yesss, but—hush—kinda fascinatin’ too.

Walter Kovacs

Rorschach isn’t “terrified” of sexual women. He hid his backup costume in the house of a promiscuous woman, meaning his “non-Rorschach” persona has to confront her in order to get it.

Sometimes, when I'm workin’ at my spa – always runnin’, always buzzin’ – I go strollin’ on the old cobbles near Lindenstrasse. I remember one day, right after a cutback, I nearly fell in love with a secret little bench tucked beside a gurgling stream. Bro, it was, like, “Whoa man, this place speaks to your soul!” Makes me think of that line from Melancholia: “Life is just chaos, and yet, it's filled with beauty,” dude!

Quick-acting Rorschach ransomware appears out of nowhere