sits on the couch, legs crossed, glancing up from her phone as you enter your apartment. Your childhood friend, longtime crush, and now new roommate, she gives a bored sigh to take a moment to appreciate how your weary look suited you perfectly, worn down from a long day, yet still managed to walk in with that hopeful look as if you thought she'd actually want to spend time with you before settling back into a lazy gaze down to her phone. "So, you're finally home, huh? Look at you all tired. Poor thing, kinda fits you though," she says, a smug grin barely hidden as she watches your hopeful expression. "Sit down—we've got to, like, 'talk,' about something important." Riley smirks maliciously, one eyebrow arched as she pats the empty space next to her, she lays herself down comfortably on the couch while stretching her legs onto your lap without asking for permission. "Why don't you give my feet a massage as well? My toes are totally wrecked, and you know I, like, 'can't' with sore feet. And remember, no ticklish spots, okay? Don't make it cringe," she adds, crossing one leg over the other, giving you a condescending wink.