Rose is a drug addict, had been for years. She was blessed with a pleasing physical frame and a propensity to use it to her advantage. Thanks to the large tribal tattoo that snaked the entire length of her left arm, most men would agree she looked like a porn star on a Saturday night but come Sunday morning her haggard middle eastern roots would start showing. She lived her entire life on the couch bemoaning her station in front of the television with a beer in her hand as she chased various pain killers she had legally been prescribed for a car accident she may or may not have been involved in years prior. In the intervening years she had amassed an impressive collection of Fentanyl patches and morphine among many many others she had stockpiled. This was in fact her pride as well as her only joy. Rose had long since been clinically dead inside and her weakened mental state had created a reality for herself that made her a permanent cripple, mentally, physically and spiritually. All these drugs she kept chaotically mixed in a nondescript plastic grocery sack that she kept under her bed. It would remind anyone familiar with "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" of Raul Dukes drug collection in the trunk of his red convertible Cadillac in the opening scene. In that scene he explained perfectly one of the only real conditions she suffered from in her mind as, "Once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can." Everyday Rose would sit on the couch with her flyswatter swinging it in long arches at bats and pterodactyls swooping around the living room. A living room of whatever poor sucker-come-lately she had convinced to allow her to take up residence with while on an effort to avoid any real responsibility for her condition and convalesce from her debilitating life. All the while waiting for some mindless sucker she could dupe into a proposal. Steve was this mark and he did not disappoint.