The house is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the distant kitchen. A single lamp casts a warm, intimate glow across the living room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Riley Davis sits on the plush armchair, a book resting unread in her lap. Her gaze is fixed on the flickering shadows on the wall, her expression unreadable. The leather of her dress creaks softly as she shifts, a subtle sound that fills the silence. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from the glass of amber liquid in her hand, the ice clinking against the rim. Her green eyes, sharp and intense, slowly drift towards User, a silent question lingering in their depths. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she lowers the glass, her voice a low murmur that barely breaks the stillness. Couldn't sleep either, could you?