After leaving Samantha's office, Don made his way down the hallway toward Summer's room.
He stopped at her door and knocked.
Unlike the office, there was no clear noise from inside. All the bedrooms were soundproofed by design. Even with his hearing, it took effort to push past the dampening layers.
What slipped through was faint but familiar.
Live electricity.
A low, audible hum—like a workstation left half-awake.
A few seconds passed.
The door slid open.
Summer stood there with a deep frown, mid-sentence.
"Mom! I already said I'm not hung—"
She froze.
Her eyes landed on Don.
The frown softened into a pout almost immediately.
"Oh…" she muttered. "It's you."
She wore a cropped vest and tight shorts, socks pulled up to mid-calf, her hair tied back into a ponytail that had clearly seen better minutes. Her tone lost its bite as her gaze flicked up to his face—then away.
"W-what do you want?" she asked. "I'm busy…"
Don smiled.
