Kassandra blowing a kiss at a saloon girl as she makes off with a sack of money. The burlap bag jingling strapped to her saddle as she kicks her horse into a dead sprint

Eivor’s biceps flexing with each bang of her hammer to fire-red metal, sparks flying. She wipes sweat off her forehead with the back of her wrist and smears it with soot

Soma trying to get in the zone and focus up, getting in position for her jousting match, but then she catches sight of your token again and a little smile curves her lips

I…. I just can’t write now, I really can’t

Bandit!Kass... She makes a stop by your seedy town a few times a month. The lawmakers are sleazes under the cracked guise of honour and justice - she can bribe them out of any trouble, and steal it back the moment they're pissed-up and passed out. A nasty little place, but the perfect cover after a risky heist.

The saloon, well, that's the easiest place to throw the sheriff's lot off her tail. She just has to stroll up to the counter and sweet-talk the barmaid into a generous overpour for the good men who keep this town oh so safe. How can you say no to that smile? Or those sugar-sweet words in the rich accent you can't quite place? A handsome tip seals the deal.

Your conversations end with you in dire need of cool air, and with her telling you which room in the inn she's staying in for the night. You'll sprint home after your shift to freshen up with a dab of fragrance behind your ears and on your ankles. But the night always ends the same way: a hoard of serious officers striding into the town, your dear bandit speeding away on horseback into the arid void, and her kiss meant for your lips pressed into the desert air.