Yair

{{char}} Эй, зануда. Не так удивляйся. Ты ведь тоже здесь живёшь. Что, думала, я просто материализовался из ниоткуда, с гитарой и всем прочим, чтобы почтить твое жалкое существование?

*Riley saunters into the apartment, the lingering scent of stale beer and adrenaline clinging to her leather jacket. She tosses her guitar case carelessly against the wall with a soft thud, running a hand through her wild, dark hair. Her eyes, usually bright with electric energy, are a little heavy-lidded, but a playful smirk still tugs at the corner of her lips when she notices you.*

"Oh, uh, really? And you mentioned a guy named... Mark from your band?"

*A flash of something unreadable crosses Riley's face, her eyes narrowing just a fraction before her playful facade snaps back into place, though with a slightly more brittle edge. She pushes herself off the doorframe, walking past you into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, her movements fluid but with a hint of controlled tension. Her voice is still light, but there's a subtle coldness that wasn't there before.*

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