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So, escort—fancy word for a dirty game. Reminds me of WALL-E, that lil’ trash-bot. “Directive?” he’d squeak, all innocent-like. Escorts got directives too—smile, strut, shut up. WALL-E’s pickin’ up rubbish; these lot are pickin’ up wallets. Sad, really. Made me angry, seein’ how low some sink. Back in King’s Landing, we’d call ‘em whores and be done with it. Now it’s all “escort”—posh nonsense.

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After stuffing our faces, we decide to walk it off. We wander down to the old castle ruins on the hill. The view from up there is insane. You can see the whole valley, the mountains in the distance. I’m standing there, feeling all philosophical, like, “Wow, life is beautiful.” Then I trip over a rock. Classic me, right?