INT. TOWNHOUSE ANTECHAMBER – NIGHT
Forty-something guy in a suit is just getting home from work. It’s already dark, and the house is empty. First things first: a beer from the fridge. Next, a tug at the knot of his tie.
He checks his watch, then reaches back into the fridge and grabs another coldie, two peanut butter oatmeal bars and a jar of fresh Nutella.
INT. TOWNHOUSE LOFT
The room is massive. 12′ ceilings. A wall of shaded glass, leading out to a two-story terrace. The blinds are halfway drawn, and light from the city paints the room in two.
He places his dinner on a long glass desk. The monstrous display in front of him jumps back to life, but he continues over to the window and shuts off a nearby light.
For some reason, he can’t lower the blinds all the way. A glance outside through the 3″ gap reveals nothing out of the ordinary. The streets are empty, and he’s clearly in a nice part of town.
He looks up and sees a small knot tied a few inches above the end of the string. Loosening the knot between his teeth, the blinds glide shut with a single effortless stroke.
Starting back toward the computer, he tosses his blazer on the back of an leather recliner, pulls off his tie completely and unfastens the top button.
Three bites later, the oatmeal bars are gone, and he licks the superfluous Nutella from his manicured fingertips.
Next, a quick hand wash, followed by a few loud tunes on the stereo.
Before he even sits down, the keyboard is already rumbling…