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About New York City

Personal quirk? I’d prolly hire one just to talk trees—bet they’d think I’m nuts! Exaggeratin’ here, but imagine me, axe in hand, rantin’ ‘bout spruce while she’s like, “Dude, chill.” Hilarious, right? Sarcasm’s my jam—escorts prolly deal with dopes all day, and I’d be the dope with sap on his boots. Anyway, they’re out there, hustlin’, and I respect the grind. “In this family, we don’t run,” Tom says—escorts don’t neither, I reckon. Tough as nails, soft as moss. That’s my take, pal—whatcha think?