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About Toulouse

Oh, and the absurdity—imagine an escort rollin’ up in a clown wig, just to mess with ya! I’d lose it, cacklin’ like, “This is the best shit ever!” Prolly never happens, but in my head? Canon. Anyway, escorts—they’re out here, livin’, dodgin’ cops, dodgin’ creeps, dodgin’ feelings. “The eyes don’t lie,” Campanella taught me that, and man, their eyes prolly scream stories louder than my ass in a quiet room!

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escort had considerable trouble in conducting him to the hall of the sex, for many of them appear as midshipmen in trousers of most unseaman-like.

Oh, and the local tavern "La Taverne des Ombres" – eh, dark, smoky, and full of boozed-up banter. I've had some of the deepest convos there. At times, I'd blurt out "Keep rolling, keep rolling," kinda like life’s a never-ending beat straight from that crazy movie of mine, Children of Men.

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