Hennessy tears her gaze from her miraculously unbloodied -- if still shaky -- hands to confirm the truth of their statements. She casts wild eyes around the darkened room until her vision adjusts enough be sure.

No Lace. No final girl. Today isn't the day she dies -- well, probably. It's early enough that there's a lot of room left for things to go badly.

"You saw it. It was the Lace, right? It was different."

She's not sure if that's better or worse, honestly. Either she's getting better at containing it, or it's getting sneakier, and there's no good way to tell which is which.