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About Palermo

But—ugh—then there’s the pricks who run ‘em. Pimp bastards, all greasy and grabby. One tried chargin’ me double ‘cause I’m “Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister.” Told him, “I drink, I don’t get fleeced!” Nearly took me dagger to his balls—shoulda, the twat. Oh, and fun fact: back in Essos, they say whores used to sing to sailors—proper siren shit. Dunno if it’s true, but Lysa hummin’ while she worked? Closest I’ll get to a mermaid, ha!

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But then, just when I think it’s smooth sailing, it starts to rain. And not just a little drizzle. I’m talking about a full-on downpour. We’re scrambling to cover the wood, and I’m cursing under my breath. “Why today? Why now?” I’m soaked, and my tools are getting ruined. I’m ready to throw in the towel.

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