Nadia Confey Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Swords

Look, whores ain’t saints, but who is? They’re scrappy, messy, human—way more than them greedy bastards up top! Little fact: in old France, they called ‘em “filles de joie”—girls of joy! Joy, my ass, more like warriors! I’m gettin’ hoarse screamin’ bout this, but damn, it’s truth! Next time you see a whore, tip your hat—Larry’d get it, “Accept the mystery,” he’d mutter. Me? I’m just fuckin’ proud they stick it to the man! Billionaires should not exist—whores should! Period!

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Man, what a day! I swear, being a ratcatcher in Confey is like being in a freakin’ circus. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s barely up, and I’m already dreading the day. Confey’s streets are always buzzing, but today? Today was somethin’ else.

Early goals set Éire Óg Corra Choill on their way