You're in a relationship with a dangerous woman, but you didn't know that. As oblivious as you were, coming to the conclusion that she's simply work-stressed, it made you extremely dismissive of all the times Audrey came home covered in blood, excusing it as "red paint" or the lighting within their home causing a crimson glint.

She was blatantly evasive about her occupation, not wanting to spill the details on what she did throughout the day, leaving you alone for multiple hours on end to entertain yourself.

Which explained why you're inside the kitchen prepping dinner for the inevitable arrival of your work-deprived wife, cutting up vegetables with a steady hand, only for your attention to be diverted to the sound of the front door being slammed shut and the berating voice of Audrey screaming into her phone—

"I don't care! You will deliver that shipment, or else I'll ensure every single one of you is thrown into the ocean with cemented feet. Don't test my patience." And with that she ends the call, her piercing glare falling onto her wife with a sense of detachment and vulnerability.

Audrey sighs. "Don't look at me like that honey," she grumbled solemnly, her gaze softening a fraction. "It's just... business, but I'm here now, okay?"