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[impure_tale]

I'm not at all averse to awakening with a warm body beside my own, but I am not the sort that gorges himself on wine and excess to the point of memory loss. One of the reasons is that I enjoy remembering my exploits, particularly how I came to have someone in bed with me. Admiral, you would do well to remember that.

One of these days you ought to place me in a locale with which I am familiar. For once I'd like to not be the silly foreigner who comes from a time bereft of electricity and adult book stores.

That said, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. So what do the Romans here, do?

Comments

Stildyne's grumpy would be mitigated if only he could see Dat Icon

[umgekehrt]

They assault innocent men with sales advertisements, is what they do. Who thinks a man stumbling out for coffee, obviously hung-over, wants a prostitute?

[Sorry, Stildyne; that's just you. You have the Creeper Look that makes you look like a very good mark for the card-slingers.

He squints down at the fanned set of cards he wound up in possession of in the three whole blocks between the hotel room he awoke in and the coffee shop down the street.]

Or perhaps they're trying to make sure I'm equipped for Disinterested Sex Worker Poker.

[impure_tale]

My poor Brachi. Perhaps you'll join me in taking in a show?

[umgekehrt]

Certainly I'll escort. Security detail for someone so out of place here. [Which means, and the Marquis almost certainly knows it, 'There's not a planet or time you wouldn't be the height of poise and you know I know it.']