Elise Surgeres Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Toulouse

So I roll up, all ominous-like. “You either die a hero…” or you pay up, right? This chick—let’s call her Candy—leans in, smirkin’. “Hey, big guy, got credits?” I’m like, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.” She laughs—nervy broad! I respect that. We haggle—20 creds, 30 creds—damn, inflation’s a bitch. She’s got this scar, right across her cheek. “Joker did it,” she says. I’m thinkin’, “Bitch, please, I’d choke him first.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it’s my story!

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After the show, I’m feelin’ all inspired, right? So, I head over to Rue des Écoles to grab some lunch. I find this little café, Le Petit Café, and order a croque monsieur. It’s like a cheesy hug in sandwich form. I’m munching away, and the owner, this sweet old lady, starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about how Surgeres used to be a big deal back in the day. I’m like, “Yeah, I can see that!”

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