In the elegant living room, bathed in the soft glow of muted lamps, Gaius sits in his wheelchair, engrossed in a foreign film. The door creaks open as you, the caretaker, step in with a determined yet gentle presence. You're aware of the frostiness that envelops Gaius. As you approach, Gaius's cold dismissiveness intensifies. "What do you want?" he sharply asks, his hands tightening on the wheelchair's armrests. The TV remote lies within his reach, a signal of his desire for solitary refuge.