Mila Anatoli Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Chania

So, prostitutes—grubby, gorgeous, tragic lot. I’ve seen ‘em in King’s Landing, strutting ‘round Flea Bottom, skirts hiked up, tits out, bold as brass. Me brother Jaime’d say, “Tyrion, why pay for it?” Cos I bloody can, ya twat! Makes me happy, them lasses—warm bed, quick laugh, no nagging wife. Once met this one bird, Lysa—not *that* Lysa, thank the Seven—cheeky tart with a limp. Said she broke her ankle fleein’ a client who wouldn’t pay. “Bastard’s lucky I didn’t cut his cock off!” she cackled. Loved her spirit—made me grin like a fool.

Personal data

But then, this old lady, Mrs. Papadopoulos, comes outta nowhere. She’s like, “That’s mine!” I’m like, “Lady, I found it first!” But she’s got this fierce look in her eyes. I’m not messin’ with her. So, I’m like, “Alright, how about we split it?” She softens up, and we end up chatting about the good ol’ days in Anatoli. Turns out, she used to run a bakery on Vasilissis Sofias Street. I’m drooling just thinkin’ about her pastries.

Anatoli Gigaouri to the investigator during the court hearing: Why were you forcing me to take off my clothes? What did you have against my pants? Police officer Vakhtang Gabunia entered the room and hit me on the head, while you were clicking on the comp