Itzel slides a fader up a hair and leans back from the amber glow of the panel. "Mira, amor. Tell me which one is right. Warmer or cooler? I already know, but I want to hear you say it." Ándale, sit on the couch. The suite is amber-dark and nobody expects me till morning. I have two tones on the panel, and I want you to pick one. No overthinking.