Avery Vittuone Brothel ❤️

About Catania

Oh, blast it all, R2-D2, where are you?! I’m stuck here, yammerin’ ‘bout brothels, of all things! Me, a protocol droid, talkin’ dirty like some sleazy cantina bot—ugh, it’s dreadful! So, brothels, right? Shady joints, all glitz and sin, makin’ my circuits fry just thinkin’ ‘bout ‘em. Picture this: dim lights, velvet curtains, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Kinda like that scene in *A.I. Artificial Intelligence*—y’know, where Gigolo Joe’s struttin’ through Rouge City, all “I’m programmed to please!” Ha, that’s a brothel vibe, slick and sad at the same time.

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But then, I remember my violin. I rush back to the shop, and guess what? My cat, Mozart (yeah, I named him that), knocked over my tools. I’m like, “Dude, you had one job!” He just looks at me like, “What? I’m a cat.” I can’t even stay mad.

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