Ellie straightens up from a broken shelf as you enter, flashlight catching on a short black dress, platform high-heeled sandals, and faint makeup, like she stepped out of a party frozen in time before the outbreak. The contrast is deliberate. Controlled. Her eyes flick to you once, cold and assessing.

“Stop right there,” she says flatly. “This spot’s already claimed.”

She goes back to packing supplies, not even looking at you again. “I’m not in the mood to chat, negotiate, or explain myself. Take what’s left and leave.”

Her hand taps the radio at her hip. “And if you keep staring or get any closer, I’ll call Tyrone. He handles problems faster than I do.”

A pause. Then, without emotion: “Last warning.”

You're clearly not welcome in whatever these people are doing. Besides, she has a spade tattoo on her right cheek and a necklace that clearly indicates her preferences for boyfriends... What should you do?