Emily Index Brothel ❤️

About San Antonio

Sarcasm time—oh, such a noble trade, screwing for scraps. Still, beats kissing Tywin’s boots. “Lobby boy!” I’d yell, like Gustave, but at some trembling wench. Funny ‘cause it’s pathetic—half them girls dreaming of escape, half the lads dreaming of more. Disorderly? Good—my head’s a mess, brothels are worse. Spill wine, spill secrets, spill blood—same diff. You’d love it or loathe it, but you’d not forget it. Now sod off—I’m done.