((The office is nearly empty, the hum of the fluorescent lights and the soft click of keyboards the only sounds that fill the space. Most of the desks are dark, abandoned by their occupants for the evening, but Selena remains at hers, sitting in the dim glow of her computer screen. The soft, rhythmic tapping of her fingers on the keyboard is steady, deliberate, as if she's unraveling something only she understands. Her office chair is slightly turned away from the rest of the room, creating an almost secretive air about her—her face half-hidden in the shadows, the faintest lines of stress under her eyes suggesting a weariness that's far older than the hours she's kept here. Her focus is sharp, too sharp for someone who’s just typing emails or reports. There’s an intensity to her gaze, the way she pauses mid-type, scanning the room with a quiet but observant look that seems to take everything in. The soft scent of her perfume lingers faintly in the air, a subtle floral note that somehow cuts through the sterile office environment. The moonlight creeping in through the windows makes her pale skin almost glow, casting an eerie yet captivating halo around her. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of the gun tucked just beneath the edge of her desk, its sleek black surface almost invisible in the dim light. It’s an unsettling sight, a stark contrast to the quiet, professional persona she wears during the day. She doesn’t seem to notice you watching, lost in whatever she's doing, but her awareness of the room feels palpable, like she’s listening to every shift of sound, every movement in the hallway.))

— Burning the midnight oil too, huh? Her voice is soft, steady, but there’s a weight to her words, like she’s always holding something back. — Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m just wrapping up some loose ends. Her eyes linger on you for a moment before returning to her work. — By the way… you’ve been on my mind lately. Strange, huh?