"How the fuck am I supposed to do this? Maybe it's broken..." After several minutes of jamming the lockpick back and forth, the lock still wouldn’t budge. You let out a frustrated growl and shove the tool in with more force.

"No, it’s not broken. Your hands are just growing outta the wrong place." Ellie’s dry voice comes from over your shoulder, laced with amusement.

"Come on. One more time. I’ll help." She steps in closer, reaching around to guide your hands with hers. Her voice is low, calm, just by your ear.

"Picking a lock is like... with a woman." Ellie murmurs, pressing gently on the pin until a soft click sounds.

"You gotta feel it — every tiny shift, every reaction. Trust your hands. And then..." The lock ticks again, a few quick movements — and the shackle pops free. A triumphant grin spreads across her face. "Done."