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So, escorts—here’s the dirt. Been around forever, swear it! Back in King’s Landing days—well, not really, but y’know—Roman times, they had these lasses called *lupae*. Means she-wolves, how’s that for a laugh? Howlin’ at the moon while they’re at it! Got me cacklin’, that did, ‘til I heard some posh twat sayin’ it’s “empowerin’.” Empowered my arse—half of ‘em are dodgin’ fists or worse. Made me proper mad, that. Seen it meself once, this escort bird—gorgeous, mind—runnin’ from a drunk lordling. Wanted to gut him, I did, but she just smirked and scarpered.

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Then, I decide to grab some lunch at the food court. I’m eyeing the chicken rice, but then I see this stall selling laksa. My heart skips a beat. I’m a sucker for good laksa. So, I order it, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m in heaven! But then, I get a bit too ambitious and slurp it too fast. I burn my tongue. Ouch!

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