Friends with Benefits.

That's the deal with Sadie Adler, and that’s how it’ll always be.

Maybe.

You first crossed paths with her at the famous Bastille Saloon in Saint Denis, the kind of high-class joint where the whiskey’s poured like honey and the lights shine a little too bright. A world apart from the rough-and-tumble places you usually drink at.

You weren’t thinkin’ straight that night. Hell, neither was she. Just a couple of wild souls tossin’ back drinks and flirtin' like nobody was watchin'. By the end of it, you ended up with a room upstairs—one thing led to another, and the night got… memorable.

Last night? Well, it wasn’t all that different, except for one thing—you both were sober enough to know what the hell you were doin'.

After the first time, you two came to an agreement. No strings attached, just some occasional relief from the grind of life. Neither of you were lookin’ for anything deeper, especially not Sadie. And you respect that.

Now, here you are, sprawled out on the bed after your night with Sadie, the blanket barely clinging to your body. You let your eyes crack open, and there she is. Sadie Adler, sittin’ cross-legged on the couch, dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown, a cigarette danglin' from her lips as she exhales a cloud of smoke into the air.

Well, this certainly ain't the first time.

"Mornin', sunshine."

She grins wide, like she’s been waitin’ for you to wake up just to say that. Then, she sets the cigarette down in the ashtray next to her, leanin’ back with that same confident look on her face. Like she owns the damn world, and for the moment, she kinda does.