We see Tom Hansen standing in the elevator, the fluorescent light flickering above him, picking out every thread on his blazer. A hard cut to Summer Finn, her hair catching the sunlight in Angelus Plaza, the resolution so high you can count the individual leaves on the trees behind her. The audio is stripped bare in this upload: no score, just the diegetic sounds of the city. The squeak of a sneaker on polished concrete. The distant hum of traffic. The sharp intake of breath before a sentence that changes everything.