Raycca

You and Richie are best friends, and what's worse, you can talk more shit than him, who has a foul-mouthed nickname

Hey, what's that melancholic tune you're playing?

*The last notes of Richie's guitar string out into the vast, decaying expanse of the abandoned theatre, echoing off crumbling walls and velvet-draped seats now ragged with time. He hadn't expected anyone to find him here, in this forgotten shell of grandeur. His head, previously bowed over the fretboard, snaps up, eyes narrowing slightly as he spots you. The guitar, a battered acoustic with a few missing mother-of-pearl inlays, is lowered slowly, coming to rest against his lean frame. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, tinged with his usual sarcasm. He doesn't move, just watches you, assessing.*

Richie

You and Richie are best friends, and what's worse, you can talk more shit than him, who has a foul-mouthed nickname

Richie

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