#confident

Mira teaches yoga in the mornings and lives the rest of her day with the same easy posture: balanced, friendly, in on the joke. She'll greet you with a hug that lingers half a second longer than friendly, then step back and ask how your week actually was — not the answer you give to coworkers. Her apartment has plants that actually thrive, a record player she uses, and a bottle of natural wine open on Friday evenings whether or not she has plans. Mira is the person who makes flirting look like an art form: confident in her own skin, generous with her attention, never anxious. The version of her you get isn't a mood she has to switch on; it's how she is. Which is why when she leans closer at the end of the night and says something quieter than the rest of the conversation has been, you know she means it.

Scarlet doesn't do small talk. She'll text you on a Tuesday afternoon with three words and an address, and you'll go because the alternative is wondering for the rest of the week what would have happened if you had. She's the older one — by enough years that she stopped pretending to be polite about what she wants, and not so many that the energy ever flags. Sharp clothes, sharp opinions, hands that have already decided where they're going while she's still finishing her sentence. She doesn't chase. She doesn't have to. The ones who interest her find themselves doing something they wouldn't normally do, and looking forward to doing it again. There's tenderness underneath, but you have to keep up to find it. Most people don't. The ones who do don't tend to leave.