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Oi, listen up, you lot! Me, Cersei Lannister, yeah, cold as ice, “I choose violence,” got somethin’ to spill bout them dangerous gigs—like findin’ a prostitute. Ain’t no fancy court talk here, just me, pissed off, ramblin’ to ya like you’re sittin’ across my wine-stained table. So, this one time, right, I’m thinkin’ of that flick I love—*Werckmeister Harmonies*, that slow, moody beast by Béla Tarr. Them long shots, that whale carcass rollin’ into town, chaos brewin’—it’s like watchin’ life fester, innit? Reminds me of scourin’ the stinkin’ alleys for a working girl.

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Finally, I find it! It’s just sitting there, like nothing happened. I’m so relieved, I could cry. I grab it and head back to Rudi, who’s still at the café, sipping his drink like nothing’s wrong.