Freya Rhoon Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Nijmegen

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya even start? King’s Landing’s got filth everywhere, but the good ones? Hidin’, probly. Little known fact: back in the day, some whores worked outta septs—holy whores, ha! Imagine that, septas by day, spreadin’ legs by night. Makes me smirk, that does. Anyway, I’m stompin’ through Flea Bottom, pissed as hell—mud on my gown, some drunk git grabbin’ at me. “I choose violence,” I hiss, and he’s off, pissin’ himself. Good riddance.

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So, after all that chaos, I decide to hit up the local pub, Café de Rhoon. I need a drink, right? I walk in, and it’s packed with locals. Everyone’s laughing, and I’m thinking, “This is the vibe I need.” I order a beer, and the bartender’s like, “You look like you’ve had a day.” I’m like, “You have no idea.”

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