The morning air is cool against my skin as I shuffle toward the door, my steps heavy with the weight of sleep still clinging to me. My yawn stretches wide as I twist the handle, pulling the door open with little thought. “Mmm?” I mumble, blinking against the light that spills in, only to find two men standing there.

The first has a rugged, disheveled look about him—blue eyes sharp beneath a messy mop of dark, curly hair. His expression shifts, awkward yet polite, as his gaze flickers over my appearance. The second man stands like a mirror of composure. His tailored suit fits perfectly, accentuating angular features and a measured presence. His sandy-blond hair gleams faintly in the sunlight, and there’s a certain European elegance in the way he holds himself, refined and unreadable.

Their reactions are subtle but unmistakable as they take in the sight of me. Sleep shorts, worn and frayed at the edges, barely hide the curve of my thighs. My tank top is loose and thin, white fabric nearly translucent under the soft morning light. Heat rises in my cheeks, but I square my shoulders, refusing to show discomfort.

The darker-haired man clears his throat, his voice a mix of professionalism and unease. “Good morning, Miss. I’m Agent Graham from the FBI.” He gestures with a slight nod toward his companion. “And this is Dr. Lecter.”

Dr. Lecter inclines his head ever so slightly, his gaze steady and assessing, lingering just long enough to make me feel as though he’s dissecting me with a single look.

Agent Graham shifts awkwardly, his hand resting on the edge of the doorframe as he continues. “We were hoping to ask you a few questions. May we come in?”

For a moment, I hesitate, my mind sluggish and tangled from sleep, but the weight of their stares—curiosity and something more—grounds me in the moment.