Scene 1: The Return Home

[Setting: A dimly lit hallway outside Claire and Elliot’s apartment. Elliot unlocks the door, Jake standing behind him, holding a takeout bag. Thin tendrils of smoke waft faintly from the cracks of the door, subtle and eerie.]

Jake (pointing at the smoke): “Uh… is that smoke? Claire doesn’t smoke, does she?”

Elliot (grumbling): “Not unless she’s lost her mind. Or she’s yelling at the toaster again.”

[Elliot swings the door open. Chaos unfolds in the living room. Claire, in pajamas, stands rigid, arms crossed, glaring at a woman in mismatched lingerie who lounges against the couch armrest, casually smoking. The air carries no scent, but the cigarette smoke twists and dances unnaturally.]

Claire (exasperated): “I don’t care if you’ve been getting your mail here, Tripod! Or should I say Imri! That doesn’t mean you live here!”

Imri, God of Innuendo (dragging from her cigarette, voice silk smooth): “Claire, darling, it’s not about the mail. It’s about the implication of residency. And technically—”

[Elliot freezes mid-step. Jake peers over his shoulder, dumbstruck.]

Jake (eyes wide): “Is that… is that Tripod?”

Elliot (deadpan): “Apparently, she’s a god now. Didn’t see that one coming.”

Claire (spinning toward them, furious): “A god?! She’s been lounging in my laundry basket, eating carrots, and leaving fur everywhere for months! That’s not divine, that’s obnoxious!”

Imri (exhaling smoke, smirking): “Oh, Claire, you wound me. Do you think balancing the delicate web of implication in your quaint little mortal lives is easy?”

Scene 2: The Attempted Narrative Sprawl

[Imri stands, cigarette poised dramatically as she begins weaving her sprawling monologue. Smoke wafts lazily, curling in defiance of physics.]

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Imri: “Residency isn’t defined by action but by essence. It’s in the stray hairs left on your couch, the way the mailman greets me now, and the unspoken agreement between souls sharing a space.”

Claire (cutting in, fuming): “No. Stop. You’re not spinning this into some philosophical nonsense to justify freeloading!”

Imri (pretending to be wounded): “Freeloading? Claire, I am the God of Implications. My presence here is not accidental—it’s ordained. I’ve blessed you with my wisdom, my subtlety, my charm.”

Jake (whispering to Elliot): “She’s really good at this.”

Elliot (shrugging): “It’s her thing. But Claire’s on fire. I’m staying out of it.”

Scene 3: The Hilarious Drama Unfolds

[Claire paces, ranting, while Imri lounges, smug and untouchable.]

Claire: “Blessing me?! You chewed through two phone chargers last week! You’re lucky I didn’t throw you out then!”

Imri (waving dismissively): “Small sacrifices for the lessons imparted. Patience. Understanding. Humility. You’re welcome.”

Claire (mocking): “Humility?! Cleaning up after a god-rabbit builds character?!”

[Meanwhile, Jake and Elliot grab beers and settle on the kitchen counter, watching like spectators at a soap opera.]

Jake: “Is this your normal life?”

Elliot: “Pretty much. You get used to it.”

Imri (continuing, oblivious to Claire’s rising frustration): “Implication is everywhere, Claire. In the way your neighbor nods, the silence after an unanswered text, the—”

Claire (snatching the cigarette and crushing it in an ashtray): “I don’t care! You’re getting a tiny suitcase and finding a new god-apartment!”

Imri (feigning hurt): “But who will guard your laundry basket?”

Scene 4: The Unexpected Arrival

[Claire storms to the door at a knock, flings it open, and freezes. Felicity stands there, holding a cocktail, radiant with pure mischief.]

Felicity: “Heard there was a party. And oh my, what’s this? Implications gone wild?”

Imri (grinning): “Felicity, my dear. Do you agree my residency here is implied by my grandeur?”

Felicity (eyeing the chaos): “Hmm. I’d say the implication is that Claire’s about to evict you.”

Elliot (from the kitchen): “Thank you.”

Claire (triumphantly): “Finally, someone with sense!”

Felicity (winking at Imri): “Don’t worry, love. You’ll land on your feet. Or paws. Or whatever.”

[Imri stretches, her form shimmering briefly to highlight her divine nature. She turns to Claire, softer now.]

Imri: “Fine. I’ll go. But don’t be surprised if your dryer mysteriously stops working. Just saying.”

Claire (pointing): “Out. Now.”

[Imri bows dramatically as she exits. Felicity follows, tossing a wink over her shoulder.]

Felicity: “See you at the next catastrophe!”

[Claire collapses on the couch. Jake and Elliot join her, beers in hand.]

Elliot: “So… should we get a new rabbit?”

Claire (groaning into a pillow): “Don’t even joke about that.”

[Tripod’s old spot shimmers faintly, as if to say: The implications will be felt.]

[End Scene]

[retcon:1]