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About Turin

Gets me mad though—highborn twats judgin’ these girls. Like, who’re you, mate? Bet you’ve snuck off to a brothel yerself, hypocrite. Seen lords preach purity, then stumble out a whorehouse, breeches round their ankles. Escorts at least got dignity—set their price, don’t grovel. Respect that. Surprised me too—thought it’d be all grim and sleazy, but some of ‘em? Sharp as a blade. One told me she’d saved enough to buy a tavern. A tavern! “I’m evolving, just like you,” she said, smirkin’. Straight outta *Her*, that line.

After that, I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. But then, I get a text from my boss. “We need those results ASAP.” Ugh, the stress is back. I rush back to the lab, and guess what? The power’s still out. I’m about to lose it.