Angelina Sutton Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

Here’s a quirk—sometimes I talk to her in my head. “You’re a stinky river spirit!” I’d snap, cos she’s filthy with lies, cloggin’ up my work. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But she’s a thorn in my side, and I’m Cersei—thorns get crushed. Surprised me once, though—found her readin’ my protocols. Actually understood ‘em. Smart whore, huh? Didn’t expect that. Made me pause, sip my wine, rethink her.

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I stroll down to the local café on High Street. You know the one, right? The one with the weirdly named pastries. I order a latte, and the barista, bless her heart, spills half of it. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed!” But hey, I laugh it off. It’s Sutton, after all.

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