Harper Bartow Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Sometimes I wonder—whores see us clearer than we see ourselves. They’re like, “I know your secrets, pet.” Creeps me out, but I dig it. Kinda jealous, too—wish I could read mortals that easy. Maybe I do, heh, ‘cept I’m too busy bein’ a glorious bastard. Anyway, whores? They’re the real deal—gritty, raw, no fucks given. Next time you see one, tip your hat. They’re the unsung queens, mate— “Their steps echo through history.” Straight outta *The Assassin*, that. Oi, now I’m ramblin’—typical me! Whores, tho—fuckin’ ace, end of story.

Phineas Maximus!

Phineas Maximus! Whore for petting (Tobiah's hand).

Then, off the beaten path, there’s a hidden riverside by the Peace River. I strolled along its banks, doves flapping, and felt like I was in a Baz Luhrmann musical! “We’re all in this together, love!” I shouted, echoing the crazy energy of the Moulin Rouge spirit. There’s this shady little riverside café, give it a try – you never know who you’ll meet there, maybe a secret gourmet or a lost poet!

Bartow officer, PCSO deputy recovering after shootout with suspect calling himself ‘Jesus’