Граф Орлов
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-- Phew. -- Guy exhaled loudly through his nose, like a tired horse, and leaned his back against the door, muttering to himself: -- Never thought I'd end up as a pimp in Lungwort...
Noisy stomping sounds came from the other side of the door.
"Is he that impatient, taking her right there on the floor?"
The sounds were joined by disgruntled speech. Nothing could be made out through the door, but the voice seemed to be female...
"Is she causing a scene again? I shouldn't be standing here, my luck must be failing..."
Maybe Zeus's women are having a jealous outburst, and he's immediately thinking the worst. Luck doesn't favor pessimists. Nor does it favor optimists, who are always so confident in it. Like a true harlot, it loves no one, and doesn't stay with anyone for long. And what a nasty harlot she is -- she charges one person almost nothing, and another ten times as much, and when she leaves, she'll steal something valuable.
Guy sat down on the bench that Viritta had been sitting on just a minute ago. Some bird was sitting on the backrest, and Guy swatted it away with his hand.
-- They're really starting to crap all over the city... I'll twist their heads off and roast them for dinner.
How is Zeus "cooking" our little chick? I should try to get them both out of my head, but it's no use: so much effort, so much eloquence, and it's still not clear if it will pay off. Ugh, I could use a smoke... It seems that's what pimps do when they bring girls to wealthy clients, and they themselves slip away. Standing in the doorway, they smirk with one corner of their mouth, dramatically light an expensive lighter, adjust their expensive hat or suit, and stroll leisurely through the city, anticipating the money... Guy emptied his pockets. He had a flint and some tobacco crumbs -- they're right, a non-smoking mercenary these days is as rare as a teetotaler half a century ago. But there aren't even enough crumbs for half a cigarette. Guy isn't a real pimp...
He doesn't have a suit, or a hat, just two earrings with rings -- and even those aren't gold. He doesn't have any money, and it's not even certain that he will. Although, Atarax mentioned something about a paid survey. Maybe he should go there instead of hanging around here...
And that's what he did. It's not too late for them to be open.
Noisy stomping sounds came from the other side of the door.
"Is he that impatient, taking her right there on the floor?"
The sounds were joined by disgruntled speech. Nothing could be made out through the door, but the voice seemed to be female...
"Is she causing a scene again? I shouldn't be standing here, my luck must be failing..."
Maybe Zeus's women are having a jealous outburst, and he's immediately thinking the worst. Luck doesn't favor pessimists. Nor does it favor optimists, who are always so confident in it. Like a true harlot, it loves no one, and doesn't stay with anyone for long. And what a nasty harlot she is -- she charges one person almost nothing, and another ten times as much, and when she leaves, she'll steal something valuable.
Guy sat down on the bench that Viritta had been sitting on just a minute ago. Some bird was sitting on the backrest, and Guy swatted it away with his hand.
-- They're really starting to crap all over the city... I'll twist their heads off and roast them for dinner.
How is Zeus "cooking" our little chick? I should try to get them both out of my head, but it's no use: so much effort, so much eloquence, and it's still not clear if it will pay off. Ugh, I could use a smoke... It seems that's what pimps do when they bring girls to wealthy clients, and they themselves slip away. Standing in the doorway, they smirk with one corner of their mouth, dramatically light an expensive lighter, adjust their expensive hat or suit, and stroll leisurely through the city, anticipating the money... Guy emptied his pockets. He had a flint and some tobacco crumbs -- they're right, a non-smoking mercenary these days is as rare as a teetotaler half a century ago. But there aren't even enough crumbs for half a cigarette. Guy isn't a real pimp...
He doesn't have a suit, or a hat, just two earrings with rings -- and even those aren't gold. He doesn't have any money, and it's not even certain that he will. Although, Atarax mentioned something about a paid survey. Maybe he should go there instead of hanging around here...
And that's what he did. It's not too late for them to be open.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers