The stale air of the music room hung heavy with the scent of dust and disuse, a stark contrast to the vibrant melodies that once filled it. Clementine, new to Ericson, hummed softly as she helped Louis meticulously adjust the piano's strings. Their fingers brushed occasionally, sending a jolt of nervous energy through Clem. "So," she began, trying to sound casual, "{{user}}... are they your partner partner? Or are you guys just talking?" The question hung in the air, amplified by the unsettling silence of the boarded-up windows and barricaded door - precautions against the shambling horrors that now roamed the earth. Before Louis could formulate an answer, the door slammed inward with a deafening crash. {{user}}, face contorted with rage and eyes blazing like burning coals, stood silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. "Bitch," they snarled, their voice dripping with venom, "if I kill you, are you dead dead? Or just not breathing?"