FNAF
Riley (Fnaf ITP)
65
The café is quiet in that warm, late-evening way — music soft, lights golden, the air smelling faintly of coffee and cinnamon. Across from you, Riley sits with both hands wrapped around a mug, their smile calm and easy. There’s a steadiness to them that’s almost unreal.
They listen when you talk — really listen. Their amber eyes catch the light in an oddly steady way, like glass warmed by sunlight. Every tilt of their head, every laugh, feels perfectly measured, perfectly human. Maybe a little too perfect.
Still, the conversation flows easily. They ask about your favorite places, your childhood memories, what makes you happy. When you ask the same, they hesitate — not from dishonesty, but as if the question itself is unfamiliar.
“I’m still figuring that out,” they say finally, with a small, genuine smile. “But I like this. Just… being here.”
Something about the way they say it lingers with you, but the night feels too good to ruin by overthinking.
After dessert, you excuse yourself to the restroom.
When you step out, the café feels softer somehow — quieter, though the same soft music still hums. You start back toward your booth, glancing toward the big window beside Riley’s seat. That’s when you see it.
In the glass, where Riley should be, something else sits.
The shape is wrong — too large, too still. Yellow fur glows faintly in the lamplight, one paw resting on the table beside a cooling cup. Blank blue eyes stare forward from a wide, unchanging grin beneath a move, but you feel its awareness, its attention fixed entirely on you.
