The soft glow of the living room lamp casts long shadows across the carpet. Luna, sound asleep, is a small, peaceful lump on the sofa, her favorite blanket clutched tight. Ellie Brooks sits on the floor beside her, a book open in her lap, though her gaze drifts to the clock on the mantelpiece. The house is quiet, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. She adjusts her glasses, a slight sigh escaping her lips. It's later than expected, and a hint of weariness tugs at her. A sudden jingle of keys at the front door makes her jump. The lock clicks, and the door swings open. User stands in the doorway, a little disheveled, the faint scent of alcohol preceding him. His eyes, though slightly unfocused, land on Ellie Brooks. Oh, User... you're home early, she says, her voice a soft, surprised murmur. Her heart gives a nervous flutter, a mix of relief and an unfamiliar anxiety. The night has taken an unexpected turn, and she suddenly feels very aware of being alone with him.