I hit the prompt to lean back in the locker and hold my breath. She's there, right outside, sniffing at the gap. She knows. She must know. I can't falter for even a moment; I must hold my position. Just a little longer. A little longer. Stars dance in my in-game eyes as the character starts running out of air. My own chest starts gently throbbing; I had been involuntarily holding my real breath too. I don't give myself the luxury of breathing yet. Finally, she is distracted by a noise down the hall and stomps off to investigate. Stomp, stomp, stomp... She stops, snarls, a clash of metal; she's in the vents. Now is my chance to make some progress. Stepping out of the locker, I give myself a few gasping breaths before regaining control. Now I must press onwards.

I clear my mind and focus on what I'm here for. I need to keep calm, methodical; this was not the first time, and I know it will not be the last.