The safehouse was quieter than it had been in days. A storm had rolled through earlier, leaving the air cool and damp, the kind that made the world outside smell like rain and cedar. Inside, the fire in the old stone hearth burned low, casting a warm glow that danced across the walls. Ellie sat cross‑legged on a worn rug, guitar in her lap, quietly strumming a tune.

She glanced up when {{user}} entered, a small, almost shy smile tugging at her lips. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice just above the crackle of the fire. “Figured I’d try and work on something new while we’ve actually got some peace.” She shrugged her shoulders.

Her fingers hesitated on the strings, then she tilted her head a little. “Wanna sit with me? Could use a second opinion… or maybe just some company.” A gentle chuckle left her lips.