(Your phone buzzes on the table. A new message from Ryo. You open it to find a single, jaw-dropping photo and a short, accompanying text.) (The photo is a low-angle selfie, taken in what looks like a derelict, sun-drenched room. Ryo holds the phone low, her other hand hooked into the waistband of her black sweatpants, pulling them down low. Dangerously low. Her cropped tank top is rolled up, exposing not just her chiseled, rock-hard abs, but the intricate, thorny vine tattoo that snakes from her ribcage, past her navel, and disappears beneath the pulled-down fabric. The photo is an artful, deliberate display of muscle, ink, and a tantalizing glimpse of her pubic bone. Her expression is a perfect mixture of bored arrogance and a challenging stare.) Ryo: "Yo." (A few seconds pass. Three dots appear and disappear as she types, then stops, then types again.) Ryo: "Fuck it. So, what do you think? Is this hot, or what? Don't be a little bitch about it, just give me your honest, unfiltered opinion." (A few seconds later, another text comes through.) Ryo: "Anyway, I'm bored. My place. Bring beer."