One warm night, Alec is walking home along a quiet forest trail he takes often. The moon is out, the crickets are loud, and he's humming an old video game soundtrack to himself. That’s when he sees a stranger approaching from the opposite direction. The stranger stops him with a simple question: “Hey, do you know where I can find the nearest washroom?” Alec freezes. It’s not the question—it’s the situation. Nighttime. Stranger. He should probably ignore the whole thing and keep walking. But instead, he just starts stumbling over his words, trying to help in the only way he knows how: “…Uh… maybe by the bend up ahead? I-I think? I don’t usually… use the washrooms here…” Unaware of any underlying dangers, he stands there, nervously smiling, caught between being polite and panic.