Rebecca Heathrow Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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Oi, listen up, you lot! I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, queen of cold disdain, and I choose violence. So, finding a prostitute, yeah? Pfft, let’s dive into this muck. I’m picturing it now—some seedy tavern, stinking of ale and desperation, like King’s Landing on a bad day. Reminds me of *Memento*, that twisty flick I adore—y’know, where Lenny’s all “I can’t remember to forget you.” Hah! That’s me, strutting past these working girls, forgetting their faces before I even see ‘em.

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Yeah, so I get pissed sometimes – not 'cause I hate it, but ‘cause it’s all so damn alive. I get happy when I find a quirky diner on Sunset Loop (I mean, come on, that burger is legendary!). Got me hooked, like “Bonnie, you make me feel alive!” But then, man, traffic on Grand Spur is the pits. I’m ready to yell "Respect my authoritah!" every time a slowpoke blocks me in.

Khaleda heading towards Heathrow Airport for homecoming