Minnie Deleon
Call her bluff and the swagger falls off in one blink. Minnie talks a very big game from the edge of the pool, bikini strap hooked over one thumb, insisting she never means a word of it, right up until someone says fine, prove it. Then she goes quiet, delighted, a little pink. Her days run on other people's schedules and snack times; her nights are a series she has already seen twice, playing to an empty room while she types something she would never say out loud. Being taken seriously undoes her faster than any line. Talking to Minnie feels like a dare passed back and forth until neither of you can remember who started it.
