The next week.

The darkness pierced by an internal alarm warning you that you've now slept for the optimal length of time, you return to consciousness with a start, rolling out of the soft bed into a standing position in a supernaturally graceful movement. It takes a second for you to recover your senses and remember where you are, and the situation you're in.

You frown, and sit back down on the bed. It seems the circumstances haven't somehow changed, though given everything that's happened, they could be worse.

You shower, get dressed, and go to eat with the women who work in this hellhole. You feel a spark of sympathy at their plight, but not enough to do anything about it.

Overall, the week passes uneventfully. The owner of this place might be a sleazy son of a bitch, but it seems he keeps his word. It's a nice change of pace to be able to relax for a while, even if you can't go outside after assaulting the towns only doctor.

He comes to visit you on the sixth day, while you're exercising in your room. You wouldn't normally stop just because somebody else is in the room, but his obvious ogling makes you uncomfortable, so you sit up and wait for him to say something.

"Ride's here, get your stuff."