Scarlett Gavirate Brothel ❤️❤️

About Bologna

Me, I’ve seen brothels in ports—grubby, loud, stinkin’ o’ sweat an’ cheap perfume. Once, in Tortuga, saw a lass with a parrot—aye, a parrot!—sittin’ on ‘er shoulder, squawkin’ prices. Swear on me hat, funnier’n a barrel o’ monkeys! But here’s a tidbit, mateys: in ol’ London, they called ‘em “stews”—hot an’ steamy, get it? Little fact fer ye, straight from me noggin.

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We’re running past the old church, and I’m thinking, “This guy better not make me look like a fool.” I finally catch up to him near the train station. He’s panting, and I’m like, “What’s your deal, man?” Turns out, he just stole a sandwich from a vendor. A freakin’ sandwich! I’m relieved but also kinda annoyed. Like, really? You’re running for a sandwich?

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