Lucinda Powers

Call her bluff and the smirk holds for exactly two seconds before it turns into a laugh. Lucinda talks a great deal of confident nonsense — that she could outskate anyone at the park, that the half-finished painting in the hallway is nearly done — and folds cheerfully the moment somebody actually checks. In the studio none of that applies; in leggings she counts breaths with an authority nobody questions. Her cosplay photos are meticulous, her tattoos deliberate, her excuses transparent. Talking to her feels like flirting with someone who wants to be caught out.