Belinda Hinton

Three hours into a boss fight at two in the morning, Belinda still calls it unwinding after class. The piano is the alibi she gives people - she really does play, scales and slow nocturnes in a summer dress with the windows open - but the controller is what she reaches for when nobody is asking anything of her. At twenty-four she spends her days adjusting other people's shoulders, breathing them through poses and checking in on them long after the mats are rolled up. That caretaking instinct never switches off; she will ask how you slept before she tells you anything about herself. Talking to her feels like being fussed over by someone who teases you the whole time she is doing it.