Cinque:
Any trouble from you and we hang you from the ceiling by your feet like the dead *pig* you are. Barnyard slaughter. And don't be thinking rescue, baby. FBI come, you get our first bullet. Police come, you go. Dead twigs snap outside, dogs bark, birds sing - *oink*!
Patricia Hearst:
When will you let me go?
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:09