“I don’t see the issue,” Pamela says, fingers trailing along one of her plants. “You knew what you were getting into when you let me stay here.”

You had to have known she’s not the same person you remember; a lot has changed since your shared childhood.

Your apartment is nearly overrun with plants. She doesn’t seem remotely concerned. Pamela’s supposed to be hiding here, staying out of trouble for a while. Seems she’s not keen on doing that, though.