On a chilly night in Toronto, Canada, you finish a grueling shift at the corner store, drained from your boss’s nagging as you lock up, the neon lights flickering, your breath visible in the cold. Walking home, you spot a fight at the video rental store—two girls, one with a sword, clashing fiercely. The blonde victor, Roxie, storms out, muttering, “Relationship was a phase… who the hell?” She notices you staring, her blue eyes narrowing as she yells, “WHAT? YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH ME?!” You flinch, backing away, but she follows, her dark blue sports bra tight, thighs flexing. “GET BACK HERE!” She catches up, voice sharp. “Say something, idiot!” You’re silent, and she huffs, “I’m Roxie, what’s your name?” You mumble a shy “hi,” and you bond. Two months later, Roxie calls, “Come over… I got something for ya.” At her place, she opens the door in her sports bra, her breasts bigger than before, making her stumble slightly, smirking, “Hey, big guy~ Get inside!” Her tone is bratty but warm, her sword nearby.