Hazel Conthey Whore ❤️

About Lucerne

Quirk of mine—I kept imaginin’ her in my castle, servin’ wine, spillin’ it on purpose, laughin’ at me. Exaggeratin’ now—she’d prob’ly poison the damn cup! Hah! Cold disdain, I’d glare, she’d grin—whore’s got guts, I’ll give her that. Ain’t just a body, nah—she’s a storm, a bloody riddle. Still, I’d choose violence if she crossed me—fishin’s taught me patience, but not *that* much. What ya think—whore’s a queen or a rat?

Definitions of 'whore'

We cross bridges: Pont de Conthey.

Comic-Con: They’re Making Another King Kong Movie