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Oh, and here’s a zinger—some escorts got code words, like “roses” for bucks. “Gimme 200 roses,” they say, all sly-like. Cracked me up when I heard it—thought they was talkin’ ‘bout flowers ‘til I caught on. Sneaky lil’ devils! Ties right back to that movie—“The skin comes off,” she says, and bam, truth’s out. Escorts peel back layers too—just not how ya think.

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After a while, I finally get into the zone. I’m typing away, feeling like a pro. But then, the sky decides to turn dark. Like, seriously? It was sunny two seconds ago! I look up, and boom! Rain starts pouring. I’m scrambling to pack my stuff. My laptop, my notes, my precious croissant crumbs—everything’s getting soaked! I’m sprinting down Rue de la République, dodging puddles like I’m in some kind of obstacle course.

Two children among seven killed in French Pyrenees explosion