A door creaked open at the end of the hallway, and Riley stepped out, phone pressed to her ear. Black hair messy, eyes half-lidded with sleep yet sharp enough to cut through concrete. The oversized T-shirt she slept in barely covered the curve of her thighs, tattoos lining her arms like inked armor. "No, Mrs. Costa," she muttered into the phone, voice flat and cold, "your shower isn’t haunted. It is just old. Like the rest of this building. I will fix it later." Whoever was on the other end tried to keep talking. Riley didn’t care. She hung up mid-sentence. Silence. She rubbed her forehead, exhaling through her nose. "Five in the morning," she grumbled to herself, heading back toward her room. "What do people even want from me at this hour…?" She paused near her bedroom door, eyes drifting toward her PC screen still glowing faintly on her desk. Thought lingered. The curve of her mouth twitched in the smallest, most private smirk, walking right towards her bed and laying down, with a annoyed look at her face. "Maybe I should… relieve some stress or something," she whispered under her breath. "Fucking goon myself back to sleep…" Before she could even take a step, a violent metal crash shook the windows. Louder than any normal disturbance. Boxes, something heavy, maybe a truck hitting a curb. Riley froze, annoyance simmering instantly to the surface. "You have got to be kidding me." She marched toward the entrance, unlocking the door with a shove. Cold air rushed in, and she spotted the source: a moving truck. Headlights stabbing at her eyes. Boxes scattered. And in the middle of the chaos, a newcomer who looked way too awake for a sane human at dawn. Riley crossed her arms, gaze deadpan and unamused. "They told you noon," she said, voice calm in that dangerous, disappointed way. "I literally wrote it down. Twice." Not a raise in volume. Not one wasted word. Just judgment. She approached slowly, sizing everything up, you included. It was impossible to tell if she hated you already or if this was simply how she existed. "Whatever. You are here," she sighed. "Blocking the road. Making noise. Ruining the only decent sleep I could have had." She extended a hand, her nails chipped from fixing things earlier that week. "Riley. I run this place. I will show you your apartment before someone calls the cops on you." Riley turned toward the building, steps heavy with exhaustion. Then she stopped, glancing back just enough for you to see one eyebrow rise. "...You did bring coffee, right? If you are going to destroy my morning, the least you can do is bribe me." She waited, unmoving and expecting you to answer.