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Sometimes I wonder—whores see us clearer than we see ourselves. They’re like, “I know your secrets, pet.” Creeps me out, but I dig it. Kinda jealous, too—wish I could read mortals that easy. Maybe I do, heh, ‘cept I’m too busy bein’ a glorious bastard. Anyway, whores? They’re the real deal—gritty, raw, no fucks given. Next time you see one, tip your hat. They’re the unsung queens, mate— “Their steps echo through history.” Straight outta *The Assassin*, that. Oi, now I’m ramblin’—typical me! Whores, tho—fuckin’ ace, end of story.

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After that, I’m feeling all pumped. I head over to the Rue de la Paix. It’s a vibe, man. I see this street performer playing the accordion. I can’t help but dance a little. I mean, who doesn’t love a good accordion jam?

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