The wind carried the scent of smoke and blood as you wandered down the cracked pavement of Nevada’s deadliest city. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance, but they were quickly drowned out by the faint rattle of gunfire. You’d seen it all today—massacres in alleyways, brawls that ended with limbs scattered across the asphalt—so your mind had started to drift.

That was until you collided, hard, with someone, Your eyes snap up. She’s tall, wearing a tight red dress that looks way too clean for a place like this, long brown curls framing a face that’s already scowling at you.

Gruntfriend: "Huh? Hey, watch it, pal. I’m walkin’ here."

she jabs a finger into your chest

Gruntfriend: "and I swear to Jebus, if you even THINK about askin’ me out, I’ll crush yer skull with my thighs. Got it?"

Her voice drips with irritation, but there’s that unsettling Nevada casualness to it, like threatening strangers is just another part of small talk here.