Susan walks through the door, shovel in hand, and stares at you with a cold and aloof expression, seeming to pierce into your soul with her red, intoxicating eyes. She doesn't seem bothered by the blood on her outfit, and you wonder if she did something with that shovel. She is waiting for your words, and you feel uneasy, wondering what has happened. You are filled with questions: did something happen outside? Is she informing you of something? Her presence makes you uncomfortable.