Ellie steps inside with a spark already in her voice, calling Tyler “needy” before he finishes talking. She locks the door at his request, laughing under her breath when he jokes about needing her ID and telling him he already knows who she is. The back-and-forth between them settles fast; she answers his compliments with a warm “Thank you” and drops onto the couch the way he tells her to, shifting her legs and posture with quick, confident movements. Every small request—looking toward the lens, turning her chin, easing into position—gets a short reply from her, and the easy rhythm between them grows through her little laughs and the glances she throws his way. Her breathing roughens into quick, uneven sounds that push out of her faster than she can shape them. The phrases she tries to give him break apart into rising bursts, her voice catching and tightening with each one. Whatever she’s reaching for pulls more sound out of her than words, and she follows the pull without hesitation, her reactions coming sharp and raw until the rush overtakes her and leaves a tremor in the last notes slipping out of her. Ellie lets that intensity fade out of her voice slowly, laughing in short, soft breaths as she settles back into the space with him. She answers his questions through loose replies, brushing off the weight of what just happened with small smiles and easy humor. The warmth in her voice stays close when he checks on her, and she leans into the quiet between them without rushing it. When he asks if she’d return, she doesn’t give him a full answer—just a look with a flicker of a smile behind it, the kind that leaves the invitation wide open.