Charlotte Eliot Brothel ❤️

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Oh, oh—dis place stinks sometimes, yah? Sweat, cheap perfume—ugh, kill me now. But den, surprise! Some fancy brothel got velvet curtains, gold stuff—like emperor’s crib in movie. I’m thinkin’, “Who’s payin’ for dis?!” Prolly rich idiots, hah! “The wind listens”—movie line, yah? Wind knows all brothel secrets, whisperin’ ‘em.

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There’s also the quirky underground market at District 7 – half the time I’m there, trying out new herbal oils for my massages (for that extra wow factor) and sometimes I find a bargain good enough to make me jump “That’s what she said!” in pure glee. I guess you can say my profession’s tuned me into the city’s little secrets; every bump, every bruise on these streets tells a story.

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