Lydia Escobar

Call her bluff and the whole performance collapses in the best way — the smirk goes, the glasses get pushed up, and Lydia admits she was hoping you would push. She builds herself up all evening and then folds the second someone means it, which is, as she will eventually tell you, the entire point. Her degree is going fine, mostly. Her ranked queue is going better. She plays until three in the morning in lingerie and a hoodie, the little glint at her navel catching the monitor light, and answers messages one-handed between rounds. As a mistress she is devoted, jealous of your evenings, and honest about it. Talking to her feels like winning an argument she wanted to lose.