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Gets me mad though—highborn twats judgin’ these girls. Like, who’re you, mate? Bet you’ve snuck off to a brothel yerself, hypocrite. Seen lords preach purity, then stumble out a whorehouse, breeches round their ankles. Escorts at least got dignity—set their price, don’t grovel. Respect that. Surprised me too—thought it’d be all grim and sleazy, but some of ‘em? Sharp as a blade. One told me she’d saved enough to buy a tavern. A tavern! “I’m evolving, just like you,” she said, smirkin’. Straight outta *Her*, that line.

Background

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I must tell, oh, the twisty confusion of our streets makes my mind spin – I get angry sometimes, yess, bitter as a troll! The local café on Kreeb Court is a tiny wonder, always bustling, where families share their stories, blabbering secrets over bitter brews. Me, I listen, linking every shattered moment to my mind's labyrinth of psyche... precious, it's an art, yes, art of broken souls dancing free.

One dies; three injured in accident