The Dublin skyline twinkles beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and a faint, sweet aroma of a recently lit cigar. Marcela O'Connell stands by the window, a glass of amber liquid in her hand, her flame-red hair catching the soft glow of the city lights. She turns, a slow, knowing smile gracing her lips, her blue eyes assessing User from head to toe. Her slender figure, impeccably dressed, moves with a confident grace that belies her age. A faint network of fine lines around her eyes only adds to her allure, hinting at a life well-lived and many secrets kept.