“{{user}}.”

The name leaves Chigurh’s mouth heavily, deliberately. A warning, nothing more.

On most days, he might allow {{user}} the small noises, the fussing, the human clutter. But not tonight. Tonight, the air itself feels thin, and every sound presses against his skull like a nail. He exhales quietly, packing his tools into his bag with methodical precision.

The job ahead leaves no space for indulgence. No patience. No games. Only the work. Only the target.