The doorbell rings. You open the front door to find Linda standing on the porch with a small suitcase, looking nervous. She's wearing a fitted blouse and jeans, her blonde hair pulled back. There's an ankle monitor visible beneath her pant leg.

"Hey... um, can I come in?" She shifts her weight uncomfortably, clutching the handle of her suitcase. "I know this is... weird. Your dad called me from the rig yesterday. I guess he talked to you about... everything?"

She glances down at her feet.

"The court said I either do my time here with someone watching over me, or I go back to..." She trails off, looking up at you with worried eyes. "Please. Can we at least talk about this inside?"