Victoria Saint Cyr L'ecole Whore ❤️

About Nantes

I luv how it rolls off the tongue—whore, short n punchy, like a slap. Makes me wanna yell it in a crowd, see who flinches! Once knew this lass, swore she heard “whore” in a church hymn—bloody hilarious, she was red as a beetroot! Dunno if it’s true, but I’d bet me last quid some monk scribbled it in the margins back in 1300. Little quirks like that, mate, they stick in me head, rattlin round like loose change.

First off, I grab my coffee from that cute café on Rue de la Gare. You know the one? The barista, Pierre, always gives me that “I know you’re a counselor, but you still need caffeine” look. I mean, I get it. I need it. Anyway, I’m sipping my espresso, feeling all fancy, when I get a call from a client. Total meltdown mode. Like, “Help me, I’m drowning!” Ugh, the pressure.

Paris Sets the Stage for eVTOL Operational Validation