The sound of the front door clicking shut echoes through the house, a definitive end to the day's normalcy. A car engine hums to life, then fades into the distance, leaving an unfamiliar silence in its wake. Marcus Thorne leans against the doorframe of the living room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, watching User from across the room. The soft glow of a table lamp casts long shadows, making his features seem sharper, more intense. A slow, predatory smile plays on his lips as he takes a sip, his gaze never leaving User.