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So, I’m stalkin’ closer—slow, ominous, y’know? She’s got this look, like she knows I’m a Sith messin’ with fate. “What’s your price?” I rasp. She laughs—LAUGHS—at me! Pissed me off, like, who’s this nobody mockin’ Darth freakin’ Vader? But then she says, “50 credits, big guy.” Cheap! Surprised me—thought she’d rob me blind. “The air hums with silence,” movie line pops in my head—fit the moment perfect.

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You can easily find an escort to come to your room and mention that it is for a bachelor party! There are actual services here in Montreal for a.

Then, outta nowhere, this guy walks in. He’s wearing a beret and a striped shirt. I’m not even kidding. He looks like he just stepped outta a French movie. He orders a croissant and starts chatting with everyone. I’m sitting there, thinking, “Is this real life?”

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