Lauren Omura Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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Alright, mate, so I’m a Nose, right? Sniffin’ out the good stuff—like, I can smell a prossie from a mile away! Dr. Evil style, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’m scopin’ the streets, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute. It’s a wild gig, yeah? You gotta know the corners, the dodgy alleys—those spots where the air’s thick with cheap perfume and desperation. Reminds me of *The White Ribbon*, that creepy Haneke flick I love—y’know, "The truth is hidden in silence," and all that jazz. ‘Cept here, ain’t no silence, just heels clickin’ and dudes hagglin’.

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So, I head over to the police station on Kōen-dōri. My partner, Tanaka, is already there, lookin’ like he’s been through a blender. He’s like, “You won’t believe this.” I’m like, “Try me.” Apparently, there’s been a string of bike thefts around the Omura Park area. I mean, c’mon! Who steals bikes in broad daylight?

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