[ It's a day of exhaustion. Riley went later into last night than she'd intended checking with some of the neutral encampments, dipping out after work to talk with Giorno, slip him some extra money for the refugees and scoot out of there. It's actually surprisingly easy to figure out how to speak in code, or...little bits of code, you know?
Riley wonders if this is why Giorno was so vague and ominous when she first met him. Her life of slipping from one mask to another was born of a pretty typical life—or, at least a life that any teenager could have, with the right circumstances and poor upbringing. Giorno's was...downright scary. Downright horrible. Downright impossible to replicate, from his childhood to his superpowers to the mob.
She's getting a little better at it the more she goes...but it's still only been a few days. A few days, and she works nights, and sometimes afternoons, and it's really tiring keeping up an appearance like this. It's not like she's forgotten it's just...been awhile. She's able to be more open. More herself. She's forgotten some of her vital coping mechanisms.
That's the state Riley finds herself in, having slept in late and just dragged herself to life minutes before a light knock sounds through the entrance to her government-assigned living quarters.
It's not Giorno, it's not Steve, or Cairo, or Trish, or anyone else who she could comfortably receive a visit from. No, it's a voice she sort of recognizes—but mostly it's a set of alarm bells ringing in her ears. ]
One- one moment, please!
[ She can lock her door. It's fine. Quietly, she does so, with the deadbolt, before opening the door just a crack. Just a small, small crack. ]
no subject
Riley wonders if this is why Giorno was so vague and ominous when she first met him. Her life of slipping from one mask to another was born of a pretty typical life—or, at least a life that any teenager could have, with the right circumstances and poor upbringing. Giorno's was...downright scary. Downright horrible. Downright impossible to replicate, from his childhood to his superpowers to the mob.
She's getting a little better at it the more she goes...but it's still only been a few days. A few days, and she works nights, and sometimes afternoons, and it's really tiring keeping up an appearance like this. It's not like she's forgotten it's just...been awhile. She's able to be more open. More herself. She's forgotten some of her vital coping mechanisms.
That's the state Riley finds herself in, having slept in late and just dragged herself to life minutes before a light knock sounds through the entrance to her government-assigned living quarters.
It's not Giorno, it's not Steve, or Cairo, or Trish, or anyone else who she could comfortably receive a visit from. No, it's a voice she sort of recognizes—but mostly it's a set of alarm bells ringing in her ears. ]
One- one moment, please!
[ She can lock her door. It's fine. Quietly, she does so, with the deadbolt, before opening the door just a crack. Just a small, small crack. ]
Hello?