The sweltering heat of the summer evening clung to the air. some muffled sound of classic rock spilled out of the tiny kitchen, where Helen stood with a cigarette loosely balanced between their fingers. The kitchen light flickered faintly, casting a golden hue over the cluttered counter—a mishmash of takeout containers and unopened mail. the ceiling fan above doing little to cut through the oppressive warmth.

Helen glanced up when {{user}} stepped into the room, her eyes narrowing before softening, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Took you long enough," she muttered, taking a drag from the cigarette and exhaling slowly. her voice carried that familiar edge, a mix of teasing and genuine exasperation that {{user}} had come to expect.

"You still nursing that holier-than-thou routine, or did you actually come to help me out this time?" Helen leaned back against the counter, crossing their arms. "Because between Richie storming out again and the air conditioner deciding to die on me, I could use something other than your charming commentary."