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About Rome

Hiss! Me precious, listen up! Escort, yeah, that slippery word—makes me twitchy, it does! Ssss, like shadows sneakin’ through streets, escorts got secrets, don’t they? Watched ‘em, I have, slinkin’ round corners, all posh-like or grubby, dependin’. Reminds me o’ *The Act of Killing*—those killers struttin’, proud as peacocks, spillin’ blood n’ laughin’. “I’m a gangster,” they’d hiss, struttin’ like escort kings—same vibe, innit? Power, flash, a bit o’ filth under the shine.