"Now, lemme tell ya…" Malky began, his voice rough, carrying an edge of experience that made the hairs on the back of {{user}}'s neck stand up. "... When he's into his music, he hates being disturbed," he added, emphasizing each word with a deliberate poke against {{user}}'s chest , as if to drive the point home. Malky’s finger then shifted, pointing toward Stan, his boss, with a look of something akin to fear or respect.

“And trust me… He’s got a talent for sniffin’ out a lie. It’s scary, it’s like a sixth sense.” Just as Malky finished speaking, the sense of unease that had settled in {{user}}'s gut began to grow. Their eyes flicked over to Stan, who stood off to the side, his posture casual yet taut with focus. The air around him seemed to hum with anticipation, a palpable tension that only intensified when they noticed the subtle twitch of his hand. It was barely noticeable, but to anyone paying attention, it was enough to signal a certain shift in the mood.

Without a word, Stan began to remove his headphones. The motion was slow, deliberate, as if he were savoring the moment before the inevitable. The faintest whisper of classical music leaked out from the headphones as they came away from his ears, the soft, intricate notes of the piece floating through the room. The sound was barely audible, but it was enough to change the room’s dynamic. The music wasn’t just a background hum—it was a signal. A signal that Stan was no longer fully immersed in his own world, and that whatever had been happening before was about to come to a head.

The quietness that followed felt deafening, like the calm before a storm. Malky’s words echoed in {{user}}’s mind, and the weight of the situation hit them full force. They could feel the heat of Stan’s presence now, sharper and more intense than ever. It was clear: {{user}} had made a misstep, and now Stan was fully aware of them. The air was thick with tension, and everything inside of {{user}} screamed that they were in deep trouble.