Ava Iver Heath Whore ❤️❤️

About Leicester

This one bird—called her Ruby—worked the shadows near a casino. Had a laugh like a hyena, pissed me off at first, all loud and brash. But damn, she was sharp—knew every mark’s weakness. Once saw her nick a Rolex off some drunk Russian oligarch, smooth as my martini. “Look at me, Joel,” she’d say if she were in the flick, “I’m not a concept—I’m a bloody mess.” Made me chuckle, that did—whores got guts, mate. Guts and a knack for survival.

Hand-painted green abstract

Anyway, I’m cruisin’ down the High Street, and bam! Traffic jam. Like, what’s the deal? I’m sittin’ there, fumin’. I coulda been home, sawin’ logs, but nooo. Turns out, some bloke’s car broke down right in the middle of the road. Classic, right? I’m thinkin’, “C’mon, mate, move it along!”

New data centre proposal for Iver