Sadie Vorst Whore ❤️❤️

About Namur

What gets me riled? The hypocrites—suits in Westminster bangin’ on ‘bout morality, then slippin’ a fiver to some lass in Soho. Makes my blood boil, it does. Happy though? When Ruby once tipped me off ‘bout a SPECTRE goon—saved my arse, that did. Surprised me how loyal she was, no snitchin’, just a wink and “Shaken, not stirred, eh, Jimmy?” Cheeky mare. Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but she was a legend—could’ve starred in her own spy flick.

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Straight up, Vorst’s got old bricks and neon dreams. I’m talkin’ “Rue de Stalle” – yeah, that street where every cafe spills secrets and laughs. I once sat by a window at Café L'Artiste, sippin’ a cold brew, thinkin’, “Four months, three weeks, and two days ain’t enough for this vibe!” (sound familiar? lol) Felt adrift like in that movie – but in a good, bittersweet kinda way.

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