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Gets me mad though—highborn twats judgin’ these girls. Like, who’re you, mate? Bet you’ve snuck off to a brothel yerself, hypocrite. Seen lords preach purity, then stumble out a whorehouse, breeches round their ankles. Escorts at least got dignity—set their price, don’t grovel. Respect that. Surprised me too—thought it’d be all grim and sleazy, but some of ‘em? Sharp as a blade. One told me she’d saved enough to buy a tavern. A tavern! “I’m evolving, just like you,” she said, smirkin’. Straight outta *Her*, that line.

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After the fire’s out, I’m sittin’ on the curb, catchin’ my breath. The sun’s settin’ over the rooftops of Saint-Leu, and it’s kinda beautiful. I think about how lucky I am to do this job. Sure, it’s crazy, but it’s also rewarding.

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