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About Gyor

I’m pissed tho—too many fakes out there. “You call that a rubdown?” I growl. Amateurs, sloppy hands, no skill. Makes me wanna invade somethin’. But when it’s good? Damn, pure joy. Spine tingles, stress melts—happy Vlad, rare sight. Surprised me once—therapist whispered state secrets. “Who’s side you on?” I snapped, half-laughing.

Then I hit up the Heroes’ Square. Man, the statues are epic! I’m staring at them, and I swear one of them winked at me. I’m like, “Dude, chill. I’m not that interesting.” But then I realize, maybe they’re just judging my coffee-stained shirt. Ugh.