Emily Cill Airne Whore ❤️

About Drogheda

So, this one time, in Tortuga—ha!—I met this lass, Molly, a proper whore with a laugh like cannon fire. She’d fleece ye fer gold, then wink like ye owed *her*. Made me angry, it did, ‘cause I’m the pirate, not the pillaged! But damn, she was clever—hid her stash in a hollow peg leg. Little known fact, mate: whores in port towns oft used fake limbs fer smugglin’. Crafty, eh? Savvy?

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Finally, the computer comes back to life. I rush through my slides, and when it’s my turn, I’m shaking like a leaf. But then, something magical happens. I start talking about my research, and I see the heads nodding. They’re actually interested! I’m like, “Wow, maybe I’m not a total disaster.” I finish, and there’s applause. I’m on cloud nine!

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