At the hospital, Aly obsessively checks her new security system, receiving only innocuous notifications about a raccoon and her ultramarathoner neighbor Steve. She reflects ambivalently on the Faceless Man—disturbed by the bedroom camera yet drawn to him, fantasizing about playing out her mask kink with him. She caves and watches his new Saturday video, which features him posed moodily and is captioned When she's mad at you, suggesting an apology aimed at her.

Annoyed, Aly comments back sarcastically. He immediately likes her comment and follows her—his only follow—drawing a flood of jealous, hostile responses from his fanbase. She mutes the app. Moments later, an unknown number texts her: Rude. He has hacked the hospital cameras and is watching her flip him off in the breakroom. They banter via text; he calls his public follow publicly claiming her, and offers to stop if she tells him to. As she begins typing "S," her pager interrupts her.

A mass shooting at a nightclub floods the ER. Aly works a brutal twenty-hour shift treating gunshot victims; six are dead, with more likely to die. Exhausted after nearly forty hours awake, she heads to the parking garage at 3 a.m. intending to call an Uber, only to find her car already running with the Faceless Man in the driver's seat.

He texts that he came to drive her home safely, citing the weather and her exhaustion, and notes she never told him to stop. He invites her to look in the passenger seat: her gun and a knife wait there, giving her all the power. Trembling with cold, Aly tries to order him to stop and finds she physically cannot. She admits to herself that she has felt more alive in days than in years, that she is lonely, and that she wants an obsessive, dangerous man who will burn the world down for her.

Armed with the gun, she gets into the passenger seat and shuts the door, sealing her fate.