Nadia Coco Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Juan

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty as hell, “I drink and I know things.” So, you wanna talk findin’ a prostitute? Buckle up, coz I got thoughts—messy, loud, real ones! Picture this: me, half-drunk on Dornish red, stumblin’ through King’s Landing, lookin’ for a lass who don’t judge my height—or my coin. I’ve seen it all, from brothels smellin’ like roses to ones reekin’ of piss. Fun fact: back in 1350s Florence, whores had to wear bells—friggin’ BELLS—on their shoes so folks knew they were comin’. Imagine that jingle followin’ you down an alley, eh? Hilarious, but damn annoyin’ too.

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I decide to hit up the local market on Calle 2. It’s a vibe, man. Fresh fruits, handmade crafts, and the smell of street food everywhere. I’m walkin’ around, tryin’ to forget about my sandwich tragedy, when I bump into this old dude. He’s sellin’ coconuts, and I’m like, “Why not?” I grab one, and he hands me a machete. I’m thinkin’, “What am I supposed to do with this?” But hey, I’m a sailor, I can handle it.

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