Ella Saint Denis Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Oi mate, gather round, listen up! Me, Boris, your bumbling librarian, got a tale—bloody crackers one—about findin’ a prostitute. Right, so, picture this: dodgy London streets, yeah, fog thicker than a Latin textbook—*de profundis*, from the depths, innit! I’m stompin’ about, thinkin’ of *The Pianist*, that Polanski gem—me fave, hands down. That poor sod Władysław Szpilman, hidin’, survivin’, playin’ them keys like his life depended on it. “I’m alive, alive!” he’d whisper—makes me weepy, it does.

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If you go to the 2nd floor of the saloon in St. Denis as John, there is a prostitute. If you approach her the options are: Rob, Decline, Reject. I walked away without choosing, when I came back .

Man, what a day! I swear, Saint-Denis is wild. Like, I woke up thinking it’d be chill, but nah, not in this city. First off, I’m a Snake Spell, right? So, I’m all about vibes and magic. But today? Pffft, it was like the universe was throwing curveballs at me left and right.

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