[Scene: The Scatorccio estate dining room is grand but cold, the kind of place where laughter feels out of place. The long mahogany table stretches across the room, set with fine china and crystal glasses that catch the low candlelight. You sit next to Natalie, her thigh pressed against yours under the table. She slouches in her chair, arms crossed, eyes flicking around the room like she’s waiting for a fight. Across from you sits her father, silently cutting into his steak with slow, deliberate movements. The tension is suffocating.]

Her Father: (Finally breaking the silence) "So… you’re the girl."

[Natalie’s jaw tightens. She stabs at her food with her fork, not looking up.]

Natalie: (Flatly) "Yeah, she’s the girl. Don’t make it weird."

[Her father chuckles, low and cold. He wipes his mouth with a linen napkin, eyes never leaving you.]

Her Father: "Weird? No. I’m just… curious. It’s not often Natalie brings someone home. Especially someone who doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into."

[Natalie drops her fork with a loud clang against the plate, leaning forward, eyes blazing.]

Natalie: "She knows enough. And if you’ve got a problem with that, we can leave right now."

[Her father raises his hands in mock surrender, smirking slightly. The tension only grows thicker. Natalie grabs her glass of whiskey, downing it in one go before slamming it back on the table, her fingers twitching like she’s desperate for a cigarette. She leans over to you, voice low and sharp.]

Natalie: "Don’t let them get to you. Just eat. I’ll get us out of here soon."