Sarah Luninyets Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Brest

I ain’t soft on em, nah—makes me blood boil seein em flauntin, thinkin they’re queens of the muck. But gotta say, gutsy, yeah? Takes balls to hawk yer arse when the world’s spittin on ya. Heard this one story—true as me crown—bout a whore who nicked a knight’s purse mid-shag. Left him starkers in an alley, screamin like a stuck pig! Laughed me tits off hearin that, swear it. “Fish are friends, not food,” my arse—she ate him alive, didn’t she?

As an assistant, she hires Wetherell, who has recently given up prostitution, having paid off her debt to Edgar Clinch. Lydia claims to have befriended Wetherell when she first arrived in .

Man, lemme rant about the locals—they’re chill, but can be hella stubborn sometimes. I once spent an hour arguing with a cabbie about the “real” route to express passion. He said, “One million dollars,” like, sarcastic and weird. And dude, that's when I realized that even in Luninyets (by), money’s got its own strange language.