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Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, boozy, “I drink and I know things.” So, grab a pint, let’s chat about prostitutes, yeah? Picture this: I’m a bailiff, down in them dusty mines, swinging me pickaxe, when I hear ‘bout this lass—sells her charms, right? Proper wild, she is. Reminds me of “No Country for Old Men”—that flick I bloody love. Y’know, “You can’t stop what’s comin’.” That’s her life, innit? Dodgin’ coppers, makin’ coin, no rest fer the wicked.

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NOTE: More information, and the Group Rules, i.e. Do's and Don'ts, are found at www.facebook.com The primary objective Missing: prostitute.

Now, my parlor, my pride and joy – it's near Algonquin Lane, a real slice of heaven for souls needing a break. I’ve always found that these rubs heal more than bodies – they mend hearts. I recall that one rainy night — oh bloody hell, it’s still vivid... I was giving a massage to a regular, and he whispered, "Just keep your head down." That line still echoes in my head sometimes. Weirdly poetic, like falling in love with chaos.

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