Zoey Roussillon Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Nice

So, I’m cruisin’ London—shaguar’s purrin’, shades on, feelin’ randy. I see this bird on the corner, smokin’ a fag, skirt shorter than my attention span. Reminds me of Mia’s mum in *Fish Tank*—all rough edges, “You’re a little shit,” she’d say. I roll up, flash a grin—groovy, baby!—and she’s like, “Wot you want, posh boy?” Made me laugh, her sass! I’m thinkin’, “This chick’s got more balls than Blofeld!”

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After that, I had to run some tests. The lab’s in this old building, right? It’s got character, but it’s also got these weird creaks and groans. I swear, sometimes I think it’s haunted. I’m in the middle of a serious experiment when I hear this loud bang. I jump, spill some samples, and freak out. Turns out, it was just a cat knocking over a trash can outside. Roussillon’s got its fair share of stray cats, and they’re like little ninjas.

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