Here's a thing I wrote to set up the relationship between two characters. It gives you the flavor of what we're doing:
JAMES & ALLURE
James gets hired by a bigtime hardholder to make a long-distance run to this warlord named East. Cargo is low bulk, light weight, but high value. Big money contract for a freelancer like James. Nail the delivery, and James has smack for gas and repairs and is eating good for months. Fail to deliver? No worries; just find a new planet to live on. East’s hardhold (the delivery destination) is a beached freighter in the middle of BFE, way out on the seabed somewhere. The cargo that James is delivering? It’s this skinner named Allure.
James is roaring across the salt flats, making decent time. Allure’s riding shotgun, asleep, hasn’t said word one to him. Fine—he’s just the hired help. Then James hits an ambush—a pretty good one. Two blown tires and a punctured radiator. Four marauders swarm James’ car, pop the grates off with crowbars, and drag James and Allure out by the hair. She tries to talk them down, but they’re hopped up. The biggest marauder backhands Allure and she falls like a bag of rocks. They take a vote and decide—ready for it?—to kill James and rape the girl. They mound James’ gear up in a pile of loot. Next to the pile, they build a big bonfire. At dusk, they light the bonfire. They gonna cook us on the damn thing? James thinks.
The party starts after dark. The biggest marauder is on top of Allure, rutting away, and James is on the other side of the bonfire, getting stomped to death. Before his eyes swell shut, James looks over. Allure is awake and James watches her pull a long, thin knife out of her sleeve. James and Allure look at each other for what seems like forever … he doesn’t feel the kicks to his ribs. He watches Allure eeease her blade into the big guy's carotid. He screams and gurgles. Okay, one down. The guys stomping James jump the flames to help their buddy. James yanks a jerry can (full of his spare gas) from the pile of gear … and he wings the thing into the bonfire. It explodes like a bomb in a huge gout of flame. Two guys are burning and screaming and flailing around. Three down.
James and the last marauder are grappling, fight to the death. Cracked ribs don’t much help your upper-body strength, James decides. Yeah, this ain’t going well. Then Allure drifts over and stabs the last guy like thirty times in the back. James chokes him to death—nose-to-nose—and stares into his eyes as he spits blood and bleeds out. Four down. James and Allure bash each marauder’s skull in with rocks—just to make sure. Allure, her clothes ripped and scattered, nurses James’ wounds. She’s very thankful. Better still, she seems rarin’ to go from the death and the blood. One thing leads to another.
It takes James two days hard in broiling sun to patch up his car. Ah, but the nights. James and Allure have two of them out on the salt flats, fucking beneath millions of stars ‘til they collapse on each other in sweaty exhaustion. Then they cling together for body heat, tangled and shivering until dawn. James is sorry to see it end. But a contract is a contract. Besides, they’re low on water.
James makes his delivery, and as he’s being paid, Allure is led off to do whatever East wants her to do, he reckons. East is a rich, powerful guy. James figures he’ll never see Allure again ’cause ain’t nobody can afford ass like that, certainly not a freelance driver.
It’s going to take a while for the parts he needs. A few nights, in … James is dead asleep is his tiny and expensive (but private) cabin. It's the middle of the night, and there’s a tapping on James’ door. Who the Hell could that be, he wonders. James cracks the door, hand on the butt of his revolver.