Rose Mikuni Prostitute ❤️

About Kobe

Oi, precious, listen up! Me, a glazier, yeah, fixin’ windows, but now talkin’ ‘bout a prossie—prostitute, y’know? We hates it! Nasty, filthy business, it is! Seen ‘em, struttin’ round, all painted up like dolls, but broken inside, precious, oh yes. Reminds me of “Only Lovers Left Alive”—that flick I love, yeah? Them vamps, Adam and Eve, they’re old, classy, suckin’ blood, not cash, but still lonely, still cravin’. Prossie’s the same, ain’t she? Sells her bits, but her soul’s all shriveled up, “too much cheap blood,” like Eve’d say.

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I walk in, and it’s packed. Like, who knew this place was so poppin’? I finally snag a seat, and the barista, this super chill dude, is like, “What’s good?” I order a matcha latte, thinking I’m fancy. But then, I wait. And wait. I’m losing my patience, man.

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