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Alright, listen up, you filthy peasants—sexual-massage, huh? I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, cold as ice, and I reckon it’s a slippery game. Translating this crap into Russian Sign Language? Hands sliding everywhere—looks dodgy as hell. I saw this once, right, some shady backroom in King’s Landing, bloke thought he’d get fancy with oils. Made me wanna puke, but—gods—did it feel powerful watching him squirm. “I choose violence,” I hissed, coz why not? Power’s in the grip, innit?

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In a brothel that goes up to %. So if you haven't been jabbed, and haven't been HPV infected, you're pretty likely to get it if you start sleeping with hookers (or get active on Tinder, or start .

Personal quirk: I scribble notes on napkins at café Am Fluss. Crazy habit, yeah! I spy details others overlook, like the smile of an old man at the park or the wistful tone in a song echoing off deserted corners. "We are, you know, exactly what you do makes a copy," kinda vibe, heh.

Gorbachev and the verbal promises of no Nato eastern expansion