The phone’s pale glow washes over the couch, Nikki and Faith both leaning toward it. The missed call number sits there, ordinary and ugly at the same time.
Faith
I know this kind of silence. It always means someone wants to be answered.
Faith lets her shoulders drop a fraction, still watchful, but no longer coiled to spring. Her hand stays close to Nikki’s knee, a steadying presence without crowding her.
Faith
We do not have to call it back right now. We can just sit with it for a minute.
The room is small, warm, and quiet enough to hear the phone buzz softly against the cushion as the screen dims.
Nichole "Nikki" Capozzi
The number is still unfamiliar.
Faith
If you want, show me the contact list. Or we can put the phone down and get you some water first.
Faith gives Nikki a patient look, protective but open, leaving the next move gently in her hands.
✓ Quest Accepted
Identify who keeps calling Nikki
✓ Quest Accepted
Decide how to answer the missed call
“Does the number look like it belongs to someone in my family”
NO (Likely, rolled 77)
Nikki scans the digits again, comparing the area code and the sequence against the mental list of her family's private lines. The number is entirely foreign, lacking the specific patterns or prefixes used by her father or siblings.
“I turn my phone off and lean more into Faith telling her the caller isn't family which means maybe my family can help.”
SUCCESS (Great Willpower, rolled -1)
Nikki powers the phone off. The pale glow vanishes, and the room warms by comparison.
Nichole "Nikki" Capozzi
It’s not family.
Nichole "Nikki" Capozzi
If they were calling from inside, my family would know who to send.
Faith
Then we treat it like somebody else is testing the door.
Faith
You do not have to handle that alone, Nikki.
Faith shifts closer on the couch, her shoulder brushing Nikki’s as she studies the dark phone in Nikki’s hand.
Faith
Show me the number again, and we figure out whether it is a mistake or a warning.
“Id rather just rest and recover. We can deal with this tomorrow”
SUCCESS (Great Willpower, rolled +0)
Faith does not push. She just lets the quiet sit there with them, her hand easing back from the phone and her shoulders loosening a fraction.
Nichole "Nikki" Capozzi
The room feels small again, but not trapped.
Faith
Tomorrow works. Rest first.
Faith
I will keep the phone nearby, and I will not let anything disturb you tonight.
She reaches for the blanket on the back of the couch and folds it open between them, making the safe room look more like a place to stay than a place to brace for impact.
Faith
If you want, I can sit here until you fall asleep. Or I can give you space.
“Why does an angel care so much about the safety of a devil?”
SUCCESS (Great Willpower, rolled +1)
Nichole "Nikki" Capozzi
Why does an angel care this much about the safety of a devil?
Faith’s gaze stays on Nikki a beat longer, thoughtful instead of startled. The blanket rests open across her knees, and the small room feels quieter for the question.
Faith
Because you are a person first.
Faith
And because I saw what that man did to you. I am not leaving that to fate or family pride.
Faith
If she keeps looking over her shoulder, she never gets to rest.
Faith
I do not care what your bloodline says you are. I care that you are here, and safe, and still deciding what you want.
Her hand settles flat on the blanket between them, steady and unguarded, like an offer Nikki can take or ignore.
Faith
Tell me what would help most tonight, company, silence, or the first honest answer you want to hear?
“Company. I don't want to be alone, and if you'll hold me I'd appreciate it.”
SUCCESS (Great Willpower, rolled -2)
Nichole "Nikki" Capozzi
I do not want to be alone... if you will hold me, I would appreciate it.
Faith
Yes. Come here.
Faith slides closer and opens her arms. Nikki folds into the space she makes, the blanket shifting as it catches on both their legs.
Faith wraps her around Nikki and settles in, solid and careful. The dark phone stays facedown by the couch, quiet for the moment.
Faith
You do not have to earn this tonight.
Nichole "Nikki" Capozzi
Her shirt smells clean, like laundry and soap.
Faith’s embrace firms once, then eases, and the room holds steady around them. A little of Nikki’s tension leaves with a small, involuntary exhale, and the blanket slips to the floor beside the couch.