Evelyn Halstead Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m the bloody prison warden now, yeah? Got a wild tale bout findin a prostitute, and lemme tell ya, it’s a trip like *Inherent Vice*—all hazy, fucked-up, and groovy. Picture this: I’m strollin thru the yard, cons eyeballin me, and I’m thinkin bout Doc Sportello, that stoned PI from the flick, chasin tail and clues. That’s me, cept I’m after a lass who works the streets, not some hippy chick.

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This dataset reflects reported incidents of crime that have occurred in the City of Chicago over the past year, minus the most recent seven days of data. Data is extracted from the Chicago Missing: Halstead.

First stop? The café on the corner of Church Walk. You know the one? The one with the best scones in town. I’m not even kidding. I ordered a latte and a scone, and the barista, bless her, totally messed up my order. I mean, how hard is it to get a simple latte right? I was ready to lose it, but then she gave me a free scone. I was like, “Okay, you win this round.”

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