Audrey Gardabaer Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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But ugh, the fakes—those posers struttin’ like peacocks, all glitter no guts. That burns me up, Clarice. Whores got no time for pretendin’—real ones bleed for it. Reminds me, “The deeper we go…”—the uglier it gets, but truer too. Ever met one, Clarice? Bet you’d see it—eyes sharp as yours. Me, I’d savor the chat—pick their brain, taste their story. Whore’s a puzzle, a maze of want and will—fuckin’ fascinatin’. What d’ya reckon, hmm? You got a whore in ya, somewhere? Ha! Don’t we all, Clarice… don’t we all?

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But then, outta nowhere, he starts talking about how he used to fish in the ocean. And I’m like, “Wait, what? There’s fishing here?” I had no idea! I mean, I’ve lived here for a while, and I never thought about fishing. I’m just an animation artist, not a fisherman! But now I’m curious. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.

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