Riz is so much like his dad.
At some point, Riz starts to grow a mustache. I mean, he’s a teen, so ofc he’s gonna do that. It’s barely a shadow but it’s there. And he likes to dress like he was from a detective noir movie sharp and neat, as always, right ? Maybe he gains a bit of height as he is growing up too.
So. What if.
What if one day, Sklonda comes late at night and Riz is deep in thought with his back against the kitchen counter, reviewing clues in his head or something, his silhouette half-lit from the lampstreet outside. He didn’t notice night falling and the loss of luminosity ofc, he’s concentrating on a case with his mental board and his mental red strings and everything. Maybe he’s holding a mug of cold, half-drunk coffee to his lips, or got his hand on his chin.
Doesn’t matter.
Because as Sklonda steps in the flat, and right as she is about to call out to him about staying in the dark...for a moment, she doesn’t see him.
She sees Pok.
The impression fades pretty quickly but it strikes her all the same, like a deer in headlight-struck.
Riz is jolted out of his reverie from Sklonda hugging him tight (he didn’t notice her coming in because the sound of her keys in the door is a familiar and safe one and thus he doesn’t need to be hyperaware of it), tighter than she ever hugged him it seems -and she’s a pretty tight hugger.
-Mom ? Are you ok ? ... Did something happen at work ?...
-I’m ok Riz. I’m ok. I just thought...
She pauses to sniff in his hair, slicked back like his father used to wear them when they met, maybe that’s why, and he’s almost taller than her now, it seems like he was barely past her shoulders only yesterday, and now look at him, look at her boy, watching her with worries in his eyes and clues in his underbags.
-I thought I saw your dad there for a second.
.
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.
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FUCK I WISH I KNEW HOW TO DRAW BECAUSE I WOULD TURN THIS SCENE INTO A COMIC SO FAST ISTG
