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About Gyor

So, escort – it’s like, protection, right? Big tough guys, or gals, watchin’ yer back. I seen it meself once, in Moscow, dis oligarch fella – he had like six escorts! All beefy, shades on, lookin’ like dey gonna punch a bear. Made me laugh, ya, coz who’s scared of trees? Me, I’d rather hug ‘em! But dese escorts, dey strut like, “I got no direction home,” ya? Like Llewyn singin’ his blues.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Kossuth Lajos utca. You know, the one with the best coffee? Yeah, that one. I’m sippin’ my espresso, feelin’ all fancy, when I overhear this dude at the next table. He’s talkin’ about some big real estate deal. My ears perk up. I’m a broker, after all. Gotta keep my game tight. Turns out, he’s lookin’ to sell a property on Rákóczi utca. I’m like, “Yo, I can help with that!” But he just brushes me off. Rude, right?

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