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About Florence

I’m stalkin the city, right? Lookin for that shadowy deal. Prostitutes ain’t just standin there wavin—nah, it’s subtle. A glance, a lean, a whisper. Found one once near a busted gas station—true story. She had this scar, jagged, like she fought a damn wampa. “What’s your price, huh?” I rasp, all Vader-like. She smirks, “More than your empire, big guy.” Laughed my ass off—sassy as hell!

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By 10, I’m already over it. I need coffee. So, I take a quick break and hit up my fave café on Via Roma. The barista, Marco, knows my order by heart. “Cappuccino, extra foam, right?” he says with a grin. I nod, and he whips it up like a pro. I take a sip, and it’s like heaven in a cup. I’m feelin’ good, but then I remember I gotta get back to work. Ugh.

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