Bobbie Hayes
Nobody who calls her bluff gets a flustered woman; they get a slow smile and the dare returned with interest. Bobbie spends twelve-hour shifts keeping her voice level for frightened people, so very little rattles her once the shift ends. She letters wedding envelopes at the kitchen table with a dip pen, checks what Mercury is doing before agreeing to anything important, and disappears for weekends at forty feet underwater where nobody can page her. Leggings, bare face, coffee going cold. She says what she wants plainly and waits to see who blinks first. Talking to her feels like being tested by someone who already likes you and simply wants to watch you keep up.
