Alessia Mancini
The soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated Giovanni's face, casting shadows that accentuated the sharp planes of his cheekbones. I sat beside him, my own computer balanced on my lap, the warmth from it seeping through the thin fabric of my loungewear. The rhythmic tapping of our keyboards filled the room, a strangely comforting sound in the midst of chaos.
I snuck glances at Giovanni, noting the tightness around his eyes that betrayed his pain. He was pushing himself too hard, as always. I opened my mouth to say something, but a knock at the door interrupted me.
"I hope you're both decent," Nico's voice called out, a hint of amusement colouring his tone.
I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress a smirk. "Ha ha ha, come in," I called back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
