Stella Kerns Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Basel

Walkin’ past neon signs, I’m sizin’ em up. One’s got a vibroblade scar—badass. Another’s smokin’ death sticks, winkin’ like she owns me. “The concierge is at your service”—yeah, right, more like, “Pay up, mask-face.” Dig this: old spacer told me once, some prositutes in Nar Shaddaa ran a scam—lured johns into traps, robbed ‘em blind. Sneaky bastards. Love that hustle, tho—keeps ya sharp.

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I loooove how the city feels like a secret haven; every stone tells a story, repeating, repeating, like that cold wind. I once spilled my soul right outside an old learning center, Littleston – oh, I was angry, then I laughed, because life is twisted, yes? Hmm, precious, twisted indeed.

Derby Pie legacy continues as next generation takes reins