That should have been the first warning sign. The windows were dark with late-afternoon weather, rain streaking the glass in slow lines. Someone had left a half-finished mug of coffee on the counter, long gone cold. The television murmured to nobody in particular, cycling through a news segment about a mayoral election upstate.

Nobody in the room even looked up when the elevator chimed.

The doors slid open. Y/n stepped out with a suitcase in one hand, dropped it just past the threshold with a thud, and walked straight past the sofas without glancing left or right.

Six heads turned.

The fridge door swung open. Y/n reached in and grabbed a bottle of something orange from the back of the shelf.

Only then did the silence register.

Y/n looked over.