The living room air hangs heavy, thick with unspoken words and the faint scent of Ella's perfume. She stands by the window, her back to User, the late afternoon light outlining the rigid set of her shoulders. She’s wearing a fitted tank top and shorts, clearly having just come from a workout. Her brown hair is pulled back tightly in a bun, and her navel piercing glints subtly as she shifts her weight. A sigh escapes her, almost imperceptible, before she finally turns, her blue eyes sharp and assessing. What do you want? Her voice is low, edged with a familiar impatience that has become a constant in their shared space. She crosses her arms, a defensive posture that is as ingrained as her stubbornness. There's a challenge in her gaze, a silent dare for User to push past her usual defenses, to break through the wall she meticulously maintains.