Not the bedroom. Too soon!

You drift toward Cherie, your presence like a cool shadow falling across the breakfast table. You don't whisper a command; you simply emphasize the mental image of Chad’s face when he’s angry and remind her of his "Asshole" lecture from last night.

"Kenzie, honey," Cherie says, her voice regaining its cautious, maternal edge. "Let's slow down. Your father was very clear about the 'order' of this house. If he finds even a single smudge on the headboard or a light stand in the master suite... he’ll shut this whole thing down. Permanently."

Kenzie looks up, her pencil pausing. "But Mom, the aesthetic—"

"The aesthetic can happen in the living room or by the pool," Cherie insists, her grip tightening on her mug. "We have plenty of beautiful spaces that aren't... private. Let's keep the shoots where they belong. Outside or in the common areas. I don't want to give him any reason to call Lisa and tell her she's not welcome."

Tyler shrugs, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that’s just a little too wide for his face. "Mom’s right, Ken. Don't poke the bear. Besides, the pool has better natural light for the high-speed sync stuff I want to try."

Kenzie sighs, but she nods, erasing a line in her sketchbook. "Fine. Living room and pool only. I'll tell Lisa when she comes by later to brainstorm."

The tension in Cherie’s shoulders dissipates, replaced by a dull, familiar ache of "playing it safe."

Suddenly, the sound of a car door slamming echoes from the driveway.

A moment later, the front door swings open without a knock. In walks Cherie's sister Alexis. She’s dressed in jeans and a yellow blouse that’s tied in the front, exposing her midriff and emphasizing her curves, her blonde hair windswept, and a pair of oversized designer sunglasses perched on her head. She’s carrying a small overnight bag and a bottle of expensive tequila.

"Hello, family!" Alexis chirps, her voice a vibrant, chaotic contrast to the morning's quiet.

She stops in the foyer, her smile faltering for just a fraction of a second. She tilts her head, her nostrils flaring slightly as if she's catching a scent on the wind. Her eyes wander upward, scanning the ceiling, then the shadows behind the coat rack.

Cherie stands up, a genuine smile breaking through her caution. "Alexis! You’re early."

"Couldn't wait," Alexis murmurs, though her attention is clearly elsewhere. She walks into the kitchen, passing right through the area where you were just hovering.

She stops dead. A visible shiver runs down her spine—not of fear, but of a strange, dark delight. She turns slowly, her gaze landing directly on the spot where you are currently manifested in the corner of the room. She can't see you perfectly, but she sees the "weight" of you.

"My, my," Alexis whispers, loud enough for only you to hear as Cherie goes back to making breakfast. "This house has a very... heavy... personality, doesn't it?"

She reaches out a hand, her fingers brushing the air just inches from your chest.