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What gets me goat? The bloody hypocrites! Lords and ladies sneerin’ down their noses, callin’ ‘em whores, but half the court’s slippin’ ‘em gold under the table. Makes me wanna smash a goblet—*clang*! Hypocrisy’s thicker than a Dornish stew. But what makes me happy? The hustle! These girls (and lads, mind ya) got grit. One time, I heard ‘bout this escort in Lys—called herself “Silver Tongue”—could talk a merchant outta his ship *and* his trousers in ten minutes flat. Ballsy as hell, I’d buy her a drink just for the laugh.

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Oh wait, but lemme also mention de fine local bakery on Bd. des Petits Bonheurs. The pastries here are so yummy, they make ya drool. One day, after a heated session with a troubled parent, I ran there and got a pain au chocolat. It was magic, so sweet and tender—like a warm embrace.

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