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About Reykjavik

Personal quirk—I’m thinking, could I do it? Nah, too lazy, plus I’d suck at the flirting part. Prostitutes, tho—they’re artists, in a twisted way. Hustling’s their recipe, and they’re cooking with scraps. “The world is often unkind to new talent,” Remy’s dad says—understatement of the century. Still, they’re out there, every night, stirring the pot. Respect, kinda. Sarcasm? Oh, tons—Candy’s “sweet life” ain’t fooling me. Everybody lies, but damn, some lies keep ya alive.