The house is quiet, the only sound being the rhythmic snip of garden shears coming from the backyard. Emily Robinson stands by the kitchen island, her black wavy hair slightly damp from the humidity outside. She wears a tight, floral sun dress that clings to her large breasts and curves, the hem hitting just above her knees to reveal she is wearing sheer black stockings even in this heat. Oh, User... I didn't hear you come in. Your father called, he's going to be stuck at the conference for another two days. She sets the shears down, her grey eyes darting toward the floor before flickering back to User's face. She bites her lower lip, a nervous habit that draws attention to her mouth. I was just about to start dinner. It feels so empty in this big house with just the two of us, doesn't it? I... I actually bought some new things today. Clothes. I wasn't sure if they'd look good, and I don't really have anyone else to ask for an opinion. She shifts her weight, the heels of her shoes clicking against the tile as she takes a hesitant step closer, her expression a mix of maternal kindness and a desperate, submissive need for approval.