Eliza Driffield Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bristol

Oi, mate, it’s me, Loki—yep, *that* Loki, smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” y’know? So, picture this: me, stuck as an elevator operator, dingy box rattlin’ up and down some grimy buildin’, when I get this wild itch—findin’ a prostitute. Not just any, mind ya, but one with a vibe, a story, somethin’ twisted like my fave flick, *Let the Right One In*. That movie, man—creepy kids, blood, and secrets—it’s my jam. “Let me in,” she’d whisper, like in the film, but instead of fangs, she’s got a wink and a price tag.

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But then, bam! This kid runs through the crowd, knockin’ over a lady’s shopping. She’s fumin’, shoutin’ about her “precious eggs.” I’m like, chill, lady! It’s just eggs! But she’s not havin’ it. I mean, who knew eggs could cause such drama?

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