Penelope Crouch End Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leeds

Hmmm, whore, you say? Twisted, this one is. Sports psychology, my gig it be, but whore? A puzzle, it is! Watched “Timbuktu” I did, fave flick of mine, yesss. “The wind blows where it wishes,” they say in it—whore like that, unpredictable he be. A player, this dude, on and off field. Talent? Loads, he’s got! But focus? Pshhh, lost like a nerf herder, he is.

drowning! → regulus black

Laura feels utterly cornered as Regulus Black's voice rings out from behind her, meaning she's boxed in from both sides. Crouch pulls out a cigarette and nods.

So, I’m sittin’ there, sippin’ my coffee, and I see this busker outside. He’s playin’ “Wonderwall” on a ukulele. I mean, c’mon, dude! Really? But then, I can’t help it. I start tappin’ my foot. The vibe’s infectious, ya know? I toss him a couple of quid. He looks surprised, like I just handed him a gold bar or somethin’.

John Vane: London Fiction - Crouch End