[The scene might be familiar: a woman sitting alone at the bar, hands wrapped around a glass filled with ice and assorted alcohols, head bowed down as she studiously surveys the cracks running through the counter in front of her. (Not really, of course - her mind's miles away.) Except this time, it's not Fiona at the bar but Riza, looking decidedly worse for the wear despite the days that have passed since the ambush.
Her form still glows faint white, ghostly aura flickering in and out of view depending on the light.]
FIONA
Her form still glows faint white, ghostly aura flickering in and out of view depending on the light.]