Elizabeth Schofield Barracks Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Pissed me off, though, when she’d fleece me mates. One night, Gibbs—poor sod—lost his boots to her! Boots! She traded ‘em for gin, laughin’ like a hyena. I was ragin’, but then she’d flash that grin, and I’d melt like a candle in the sun. Happy? Aye, when she’d sing—voice like a siren, but rough, ye know? Surprised me how she’d talk ‘bout leavin’ Tortuga, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ soft. Whores don’t dream, I thought—wrong, mate!

Schofield Barracks Today

I gotta be honest—some parts of Schofield-Barracks make me mad as hell. Like, every whackin' pothole on Southbound Lane drives me crazy, and don't even get me started on the endless honking near the barracks outpost. It’s like a never-ending chase, man! But then, there are those spots near the corner of Thompson & 3rd, cozy cafes where the locals gossip about everything—from policy to that one time I nearly blew up a place because of a scheduling mix-up!

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