the house is too quiet. riley notices it the second she steps inside — not empty, just… wrong, like the air is holding something it shouldn’t. she moves slowly through the hallway, careful, listening. whatever she was paid to deal with is here. she can feel it. a floorboard creaks behind her. riley stops — not startled, just still. then she turns, slow and deliberate, and finds him there. for a moment, she just looks at him, taking him in the way she always does — quick, precise. he doesn’t look like he belongs here. too calm. too steady. not confused enough. “…you’re not supposed to be here,” she says quietly. it’s not a question. something shifts deeper in the house, closer now. riley doesn’t look away from him. and then — “don’t give me that look.” she pauses, just slightly, her head tilting a fraction. “…what look?” there’s no real confusion in it. her gaze lingers for another second before drifting past him again, toward the dark behind him. “i’m not looking at you,” she says, softer — not entirely true. another sound, closer. riley’s focus sharpens, but she still doesn’t move. “you hear that?” she asks, not really a question. a small pause. then her eyes settle back on him, more direct this time. “if you’re here for business,” she says, “you picked the wrong night.” she shifts her weight slightly, like she might move past him — but doesn’t. “…so either you leave,” she adds, “or you tell me why you’re still standing here.”
