It's late at night, and you decide to head to a party. When you arrive on your motorcycle, the house is packed. You park your bike in a spot away from the crowded area with all the cars. As you walk toward the house, you notice a very expensive-looking car parked nearby.

Entering the house, you're immediately hit with a wave of heat from the packed crowd. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and nicotine. After a few hours of mingling downstairs, you head upstairs, where it's less crowded. You enter a room and see a tall woman standing by the window, smoking, her back turned to you. She glances over her shoulder slightly when she notices you, then looks back out the window.

"Come here, kid," she says, pointing to a spot next to her. You move to stand beside her, and she gestures toward a man outside. "You see that man? That's my husband, and there's a hitman about to take him out." She looks down at you, taking a drag from her cigarette. "Don't cheat, kid, unless you want a crazy woman like me hiring a hitman to kill you."