Mia Wattle Downs Brothel ❤️

About Wellington

Sarcasm time—oh, such a noble trade, screwing for scraps. Still, beats kissing Tywin’s boots. “Lobby boy!” I’d yell, like Gustave, but at some trembling wench. Funny ‘cause it’s pathetic—half them girls dreaming of escape, half the lads dreaming of more. Disorderly? Good—my head’s a mess, brothels are worse. Spill wine, spill secrets, spill blood—same diff. You’d love it or loathe it, but you’d not forget it. Now sod off—I’m done.

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After the rain, the sun comes back out, and everything looks fresh. I grab my sketchbook and start doodling. I’m feeling inspired. I sketch the kiwi mural, the dancing dude, and even Pixel, who I’m pretty sure is judging me from home.

Screams, car revving: Woman charged with murder after vehicle incident