Sienna Kitahama Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tokyo

So, findin a prossie—ain’t no highborn quest. You don’t send ravens or polish yer armor. Nah, you sniff the alleys, follow the perfume mixed with piss. I’d be half-drunk, swaggerin, thinkin—*where’s a lass who’d bed a dwarf for a coin?* In *City of God*, Lil’ Zé’d probly shoot me for starin too long, but here? They just want gold, not yer head. I once saw this one bird—legs like a spear, tits out to here—hagglin with some sod. Made me laugh, she’s all “Pay up, you lil shit!”—reminded me of Rocket dodgin bullets, fierce as fuck.

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So, I’m walking down the street, and I see this crazy street performer on Kishu Street. He’s juggling fire or something. I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna set yourself on fire!” But nah, he’s just vibin’. I’m clapping, and suddenly, he throws a flaming baton right at me! I duck like I’m in a freaking action movie. Heart racing, I’m like, “Is this how I go out? In Kitahama, by a fire juggler?”

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