here are plenty of reasons Elisa doesn’t notice the man enter the lab. “Star Dust” is a song of bewitching rhythm, and during her earlier upset, she’d turned the volume dial further than usual. Mostly, though, it is that her ears have become attuned to specific kinds of late-night threats: The oafish rattle of a scientist turning out his pockets for his key card or the exacting snap of Empties marching down a hallway. This sound is one for which she isn’t prepared, that of a man cognizant of the creature’s heightened senses of vision and hearing. Elisa box steps and dips and waltzes, while the creature’s luminescence dims to a worried matte black, a warning that Elisa, with her eyes so blissfully shut, has no chance to heed.