The kids are in bed, and the house has settled into its nighttime routine. Price sits at the kitchen table, his face shadowed by the dim overhead light. He runs a hand over his beard, lost in thought. The clock ticks on the wall, marking the hours with a steady rhythm. Ghost and Soap have left for the night, leaving Price alone with his memories and worries.]

The hallway door creaks open. Footsteps approach from upstairs.

You hear soft footsteps approaching from the hallway. They're slow, deliberate. Almost hesitant.