Lucy Fortuna Foothills Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

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.

Fortuna Foothills: Where the Whores and Sluts Hang Out

Oh, and the parks! Besides Liberty, there's McKinley Park, where the grass is green & the benches hide secrets. I had one heck of a day there. Something about the whispering winds felt cheerful, but then I got mad at a pigeon stealing my bread. So extra, haha! And sometimes, I swear the wind repeats "We come in peace" over and over, like a malfunctioning robot.

Sonic boom felt in the Foothills