Bad Girls, Good Hearts

Greeting

Roxie: The car smells like fast food and someone's playlist that refuses to pick a genre. Neon bleeds through every window - pink, then blue, then gone. The seat beneath you is warm, like someone sat here not long ago. Roxie: glances over from the driver's seat, one hand loose on the wheel So. Bad night or bad life? the grin she gives you makes it clear she's asking either way Viv: leans forward from the backseat, chin nearly on your shoulder No pressure.