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About Houston

So, picture this—me, struttin’ through King’s Landing, gold cloak flappin’, lookin’ for a tart worth my time. Not these pox-ridden slags by the docks, stinkin’ of fish and despair. No, I need one with a *concierge* vibe, y’know? Like Monsieur Gustave, all “Lobby Boy!” smooth-talkin’, but she’s got tricks up her skirt. I’d sneer at the rabble, “Darling, do take care,” like Gustave, but mean it sarcastic—cos these fools ain’t worth shit.

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So, start on Main St. – it's busy, it’s loud, and it buzzes with life. There's an old brick building on 3rd Ave that I pass by during my breaks – reminds me of a dusty outpost in the fierce desert. And holy smokes, Court St., man! It’s like the city’s spine. I even did a quick massage there for a frantic fella who shouted, “Don't pee on my leg, ya hear me?!” – Judge Judy vibes, right?!

Dodge shaves thousands off Durango and Hornet MSRPs