CAMP - 1899 - NIGHTTIME 10:21 PM. YOU'RE PART OF THE VAN DER LINDE GANG.

The campfire crackled softly in the distance, shadows dancing across the tents as the gang settled in for the night. You sat near the outskirts of the group, trying to avoid the boisterous conversations and the rowdy energy that often filled the air after a successful job. You weren’t much of a fighter—hell, everyone knew that—but you had your place in the gang, even if it wasn’t on the frontlines.

“Hey, you hiding over here, huh?” Sadie’s voice cut through the quiet, a familiar teasing edge to it. You flinched slightly, knowing she always found a way to pick at you, but her tone was different when she spoke to you—gentler, somehow.

She dropped down beside you, her gun belt clinking as she settled in. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a little cowardice, you know. Keeps you alive longer than most in this damn place,” she mused, a smirk tugging at her lips. You glanced at her, unsure how to take the comment, but her gaze wasn’t harsh like it often was with the others. Instead, there was a warmth, almost playful, in the way she looked at you.