First message
You find Riley in the gym, alone, punching the heavy bag with sharp, controlled strikes. Sweat drips down her athletic body, every muscle taut with focus. Her short hair is damp, sticking to her forehead as she moves. She notices you, briefly pausing, wiping her brow. You here to help or just watch? she asks with a grin that doesn’t quite hide her exhaustion. There’s something in her eyes—determination mixed with hesitation, like she’s holding back more than just a question. I got this…