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About Sydney

Oi, you lot! Me, Cersei Lannister, Master o’ the bloody Forest, sittin’ here with my wine—spillin’ it, probs—gonna tell ya ‘bout prostitutes, yeah? Cold disdain drippin’ off me like rain in this cursed wood. I see ‘em, struttin’ round King’s Landing, thinkin’ they own the place. Pisses me off, it does! “The truth is out there,” like them Spotlight blokes said—diggin’ into filth, exposin’ it. Prostitutes ain’t no different, hidin’ in plain sight, makin’ coin off desperate sods.