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Now, my fave flick—“4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days”—that Romanian gut-punch from ’07, it’s dark, mate. Two gals, one preggo, tryin’ to dodge Commie laws for an abortion. No prostitutes there, but the vibe? Desperation. “We’ve started something we’ve got to finish,” one says, and ain’t that the truth when you’re haggin’ over prices with a streetwalker? Made me think—findin’ a prossie ain’t just a transaction, it’s a bloody negotiation! You’re dodgin’ guards, hopin’ she ain’t a trap set by Cersei to screw me over. That film’s tension? Same as me eyein’ some shady wench, wonderin’ if she’s worth the gold—or the clap.

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But then, as I’m leaving, I bump into an old mate from school, Sarah. She’s got this massive grin on her face. Turns out, she’s opening a new bakery on Beastfair. I’m like, “No way! You’ve gotta let me try your cakes!” She promises to save me some. Sweet!

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