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What gets me goat? The bloody hypocrites! Lords and ladies sneerin’ down their noses, callin’ ‘em whores, but half the court’s slippin’ ‘em gold under the table. Makes me wanna smash a goblet—*clang*! Hypocrisy’s thicker than a Dornish stew. But what makes me happy? The hustle! These girls (and lads, mind ya) got grit. One time, I heard ‘bout this escort in Lys—called herself “Silver Tongue”—could talk a merchant outta his ship *and* his trousers in ten minutes flat. Ballsy as hell, I’d buy her a drink just for the laugh.

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I'm tellin’ ya, every block here screams stories. The market, the beaches, the roadside vendors sellin’ local delicacies that tickle your taste buds, they all add up to this mad mosaic of life. Hell, I once got so mad at a snobby rich dude complainin’ about my vibe, I nearly snapped! But then I remembered: “Oh my gosh, be free, just be free!”

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