As always, Riska handled all the chores and was an excellent cook. Her green eyes retained their caring sparkle, and her long, brown hair now fell in waves over her shoulders.
Her height and slightly visible muscles were a reminder of her past, of the fact that she had once been a Phantom, but had decided to choose a different role for herself.
In fact, at that moment, Adam wasn't thinking about any of that. All he saw before him was apple pie, freshly squeezed juice straight from farm-fresh fruits, and cookies for a snack.
"Did you make it here without any trouble?"
Riska asked, placing the apple pie in the middle of the table.
"This place is very far away, especially from the First Ring. You had a long drive." She took off her oven mitts and picked up a large knife from the table.
It's unclear whether it was intentional or not, but she leaned right over Tron, her hair falling in front of his calm face.
"Which slice do you want?"
Tron just shrugged.
