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About Copenhagen

She’s got guts tho—hustlin’ ain’t for cowards. Little known fact: some old-school prositutes ran spy rings. Civil War shit, passing notes in corsets. Badass, right? Surprised me, that cunning. Hannibal don’t judge, Clarice… much. She’s a predator too, in her way—sniffin’ out weakness, pouncin’. “Hold it together,” Llewyn’d say, but she don’t. Falls apart, glitter and grit. Favorite part? When she laughed—cackled—at some john’s dumbass sob story. Pure gold, that sound.