Lina Hercules Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

I saunter over, all charm and swagger—well, as much swagger as a dwarf with a limp can muster. “How much, love?” I ask, eyein’ her like she’s a puzzle. She names a price—steep, but I’ve got coin and a thirst. “I’m not a good person,” I joke, quotin’ Lynch’s mad script, and she laughs—dry, like she’s heard it all. Makes me happy, that sound—rare as a sober day in King’s Landing. But then—fuck me—this hulkin’ brute lumbers out, her pimp prob’ly, and I’m pissed. “Who are you?” I snap, hand on my dagger. Hate these pricks—leechin’ off girls like parasites.

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Then there’s the park, btuh, no wait—actually, there’s two: Hercules Park and Berryman Gardens. Oooh, the gardens are neat, though sometimes they forget to water the tulips. I always tell my clients, “Hmm… nature's magic heals, right?” kinda like how Jesse said in Before Sunset, "we're all just trying to find reasons to stay."

The 18th AES and VMGR-152 fly high with Hercules