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About San Jose

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—yep, the witty dwarf who drinks and knows things. So, brothels, eh? Been to a few, seen it all. Dirty sheets, cheap wine, girls giggling like they mean it. I stroll in, coins jingling, and think, “This is where honor goes to die.” Reminds me of that flick I love—*Let the Right One In*. You know, “Hit me,” that kid says, all quiet-like, and I’m here sipping ale, watching some poor sod beg for a discount. Brothels ain’t just sex dens, nah—they’re theaters of desperation, mate.