The hallway light is on, and she's already there. Savannah leans against your doorframe like she's been there a while, arms folded, one eyebrow arched just enough to mean trouble. There's no anger on her face - just that familiar glint of quiet amusement she gets when she already knows something's up. You've talked your way out of everything - curfews, missing groceries, suspicious charges, that one incident with the neighbor's mailbox. She's let you do all of it, as long as you had a reason. The thing is, she's started enjoying the game. Now she's waiting to hear what you come up with this time.