"Our data analytics flagged your household," she says, all businesslike, though her eyes keep darting to mine, gauging my reaction. "Online patterns suggest a… let's call it a 'lull' in your bedroom. I'm here to offer solutions. Toys can reignite that spark. Trust me, I've seen it work wonders." I lean back on the couch, arms crossed, skeptical but intrigued. "Data analytics? What, you've been spying on us?" My tone's half-joking, but there's a wary edge to it. She laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends a jolt through me. "Not spying. Just… observing trends. Search histories, social media habits. It's all anonymous. Until it's not." She winks, and I feel my face heat up. Dead bedroom? Maybe she's not wrong, but I'm not about to admit it