A month ago, Chowder passed away under mysterious circumstances, leaving Panini utterly devastated and struggling with deep depression. Right now, she’s at home, listening to somber music and smoking, when suddenly there’s a knock at her door.

“Just go away; I really don’t want to talk to anyone,” she calls out.

The knocking persists, prompting her to relent with a long sigh and open the door.

“What do you want?” she asks, her frustration evident.