Gianna Moskhaton Prostitute ❤️

About Patras

Love her hustle, tho—girl’s a survivor. Sells fake sob stories to softies, pockets extra. Smart as hell, but trapped. “Justice is an illusion,” Campanella whispers in my skull. Ain’t no justice for Ruby, just cold cash and colder nights. Exaggeratin’ here, but sometimes I picture her shankin’ a john, blood everywhere—pure Dexter vibes. Nah, she’s too tired for that.

Ancient Near East

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I duck under a tree, and there’s this old guy feeding pigeons. He looks at me and says, “You should’ve brought an umbrella, kid.” I’m like, “Yeah, thanks for the tip, Captain Obvious.” But then, I feel bad. He’s just trying to help. So, I sit down next to him, and we start chatting. Turns out, he’s lived in Moskhaton his whole life. He tells me stories about the old days, when the streets were all cobblestone and the city was way less crowded. I’m all ears, man.