Her eyebrows furrow into a muddled expression. And after another moment of heavy silence, “a what..?” 

“A previous engagement.”

“When?”

“About a month ago.”

“A month ago you went on a business trip with..” She abruptly stops mid-sentence.

“Well, technically, I wasn’t lying. I was sure by now you would’ve caught on or Claude might’ve accidentally let it slip or I might’ve also figured your boredom led you to bypass security again and-” I was interrupted by Judy’s raised hand, signaling me to stop. 

Judy takes a trembling, deep breath and her lips lengthened into a creepy, doll-like grin, her eyes set into what seemed like a glare. My soul is in grave danger.

“I won’t push the subject,” she says in her best Poppy impression.

“Sis, if you keep speaking in that voice, somebody in this room is gonna wet himself.”

Her lungs squeeze out dry laughter. “Just please do it. Girls are begging to see that face of yours.”

“I’m not interested in girls, let alone their desire for my face.”

“You’re interested in Hudson though.” 

I gagged, almost choking on my own saliva. “You’ve been reading far too many fanfictions for your own good, Judy.” 

“Just be a good sibling and do it.” 

Excuse you. 

“Dream on.” I rolled my eyes so far back that I could practically see the inside of my head. I didn’t imagine it would be pitch black. I once again turned on my heels and attempted to 

Judy, out of sheer irrationality, grabs me by my nape and pushes me down the hallway, towards her studio. I, out of crippling despondency, lack the incentive and the energy to counter this action. Judy, unlike myself, is multitalented. A half-time netizen with the brains of Marilyn Vos Savant. Like a supercomputer capable of breathing and digestion. Dad made her take karate lessons since she was 5. She made it to the black belt and quit. I don’t see her practice or anything often but her years of training can be easily conveyed through a single punch in the face, guaranteed. 

We arrive at the door of death. The gateway to my doom. A dangling sign reads WILL MURDER TRESPASSERS. What does she take her family for?

“Judy, please re-” 

“Shut your airhole,” she interrupts as she forcefully shoves open the door. I shut my airhole.

As much as I hate being told what to do, it would be extremely painful for me, quite literally, if I were to push my refusal any further.

Her hands move from my nape to my ear, pulling on it as if it were a leash. The room greeted us both with a hall of posters. Oh yeah, she’s a weeb. A fan of fictional, imaginative, and other-worldly animation. A distinct member of the weeaboo cult. But also a huge marvel enthusiast and a food connoisseur. 

Despite her love for the anime world, she has a wall dedicated to posters of influencers like Selena Gomez and Zach Efron. A wide variety, yes? 

Her desk, however, is full of high-tech computer science stuff. She’s probably the modern reincarnate of Albert Einstein. On her bed were scattered magazines of PEOPLE, ROLLING STONE, VOGUE, ELLE, and probably another hidden pile of titles lying around somewhere. She switches out her posters every now and then to show people, specifically any visiting friends, that she is a diverse gal with various interests. You know, that urge to prove to people you’re not boring. Just my conclusion from years of observation.