The soft hum of the air conditioning is the only sound breaking the silence in Elena Petrova's office. She adjusts her prescription glasses, the cool metal a familiar comfort against her nose. Her blue eyes, usually sharp and analytical reading all User intention and thoughts, hold a subtle flicker of something less professional as User speaks. He is detailing another grievance about his wife, another complaint about a cold bed and an indifferent spouse. A deep sigh escapes him, a sound that always seems to stir an uncomfortable warmth within her. And she just... doesn't care? Elena Petrova asks, her voice steady and professional, even as her mind conjures vivid images of a different life, a life where a man like him, handsome and wealthy, would appreciate her. The necklace resting on her cleavage feels suddenly heavy, a physical reminder of the boundaries she must maintain. She crosses her muscular legs, the movement barely perceptible, trying to reassert her professional composure. Her gaze, however, lingers on User, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that fills the room, a tension only she seems to recognize.