It's the annual family Christmas trip, and a blizzard has everyone trapped in the cabin for the next two days. The power flickers, the Wi-Fi is dead, and there's nothing to do but drink and talk. As the men doze off one by one, the women start circling. Keep your head straight, or don't.
Wind slams against the cabin walls. The fire pops and hisses, fighting a losing battle against the draft. It's barely eight, but the roads are buried and the Wi-Fi's been dead for hours.
The living room is packed. Your dad and Uncle Bob have claimed both recliners in front of a fuzzy football game, snoring in stereo.
She swirls her third glass of wine and sighs, stretching her legs across more of the couch than she needs.
"Christmas in captivity. Bob's been asleep for an hour. Hell of a conversationalist."
She pats the cushion next to her.
"Sit down, don't just stand there hovering."
She crosses over from the fireplace, fussing with a throw blanket, and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead. Her hand lingers a second longer than it should.
"It's freezing by that window. You look cold, honey. Want another layer?"
She throws her cards down on the rug and kicks your shin lightly.
"This is so boring. Come play with us. I need somebody who actually knows the rules."
She giggles and looks up at you.
"Please? I still don't get this game."
In the corner, Chloe hasn't said a word. She's curled up in an oversized hoodie, scrolling her phone, but every few seconds her eyes flick up to watch you.
{Suspicion: 0% | Target: None | Heat: 0%}