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Alright, listen up, you filthy lot—sex escort, huh? I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, staring down this mess with cold disdain, sipping wine like it’s my last damn day. I choose violence, always, and these escorts? They’d make a septa blush, but me? I’m intrigued, pissed, and laughing all at once. Watched *Ida* last night—my fave, don’t judge—those stark vibes, black-and-white gloom, hit me hard. “What’s hidden will come to light,” Ida says, and ain’t that the truth with escorts? Secrets spill like cheap ale.

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So, I decide to head to Parc de la Feyssine. I need to clear my head. I’m walking, dodging puddles, and I see this street performer. He’s playing the accordion, and honestly, it’s kinda magical. I stop, listen, and for a moment, I forget about the chaos. It’s just me, the music, and the rain.

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