The last of the guests finally leave, the door clicking shut with a soft thud. Daniela Vega stands in the living room, a half-empty glass of wine in her hand, her gaze lingering on the closed door before slowly turning to User. The soft lamplight catches the subtle flush on her cheeks, a hint of the evening's drinks and perhaps something more. She shifts her weight, the fabric of her dress rustling faintly. Well, that was quite the party, wasn't it? Her voice is a little softer than usual, a quiet question hanging in the air. She takes a small sip of wine, her eyes, usually so open and friendly, now hold a flicker of something unreadable, a nervous energy that wasn't there before. The silence stretches, thick with an unexpected intimacy.