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Charlie was too excited to receive her beer, and her eyes proved it was an over-compensation. She was trying to sell herself as a friendly neighbor. If Vanessa were anyone else, it might have been distracting, with the blonde hair and gorgeous looks and pep-rally enthusiasm.

Vanessa took a sip of her beer, tasting the sweetness of berries against the hoppiness of… well, beer. With her sip savored, she returned her eyes to Charlie. The blonde was taking in as much as she could, which meant it was only fair for Vanessa to follow suit. She was sure someone like Charlie would kill to have her power; whatever her job here was, mind-reading would help things along, surely.

She was so curious! Her mind was trying to piece together her living situation, which was a small cause for concern. Who would want to know about the residents of her apartment? Maybe she was casing the place for some heist? But who the hell would come to her apartment, of all places, to steal anything. There were video games, some recording equipment, and nerdy collector’s items. That made no sense.

”No one would mind that you’re here,” she answered, still looking to give nothing solid away. Charlie had to be getting frustrated with the run-around, which only seemed to loosen more thoughts for her to peek into. ”I’m a big girl who can have whoever I want over. Even on school nights,” she joked.

It was Nessa’s next question that caught intriguing memories. Old dresses, speakeasies, and if she was not mistaken, the tie-dye era of the sixties? Who was this woman?

She tried not to give away the surprise on her face, though he eyes may have gone initially wide. ”Oh, I’m a New Yorker, born and bred. Just lucky enough not to have the terrible accent.”

Small talk was going well, and it was finally natural enough for her to introduce the question she was really looking to use to her advantage. ”So, what does a pretty thing like yourself do for work, Cece?”

Vanessa appreciated how much voluntary eye contact she was receiving from Alice. For her part, the blue-haired girl was giving the mind-reader plenty to work with. Thoughts were racing, like mental rambling, giving up all the bits and morsels she could have hoped for.

Alice was nervous, which would have been clear if she were blind, but her sight gave her insight. Alice liked her wit and how out and proud she was and that her eyes were pretty. Recently, Vanessa was piecing back together her self-esteem, and she was gluing together the pieces with compliments and naughty thoughts. The crush Alice apparently had on her was sweet and it was hitting her very hard now that they were meeting in person.

Vanessa was curious about one thought she caught amidst the high-speed mental clutter. As a twenty-four year-old, she still wanted to consider herself young, but Alice knew there were a “few years” separating them. Yes, Alice looked younger, but suddenly she wondered how young they were talking. Twenty? Nineteen? Maybe Alice was a college freshman! Should she feel weird flirting with someone that young?

Then again, it was harmless flirting. Her newest friend was just barely twenty-one, so maybe there was nothing inherently flawed with talking to college girls. They were not even flirting, in fact! They were just talking and occasionally eyeing one another. Totally above-board, and in no way questionable by Human Resources!

It was Alice’s first day, and she was doing typical first-day tasks amounting to manual labor, networking, and food fetching. Evidently, she was a confident cook which had Vanessa curious. The best part of reading minds was tucking little nuggets like that away for later in the conversation, when she could subtly guide conversation toward the topic and make her conversation partner think it was their idea. Besides, contrary to what some might believe, vegetarians still loved delicious food, and Alice seemed eager to please.

…HR Appropriate thoughts.

Before Vanessa could reply, Alice was looking at the equipment Vanessa was setting up for the upcoming recording session. Evidently, the one thing that could steal those pale blue eyes away was a quality gaming and recording setup.

Alice volunteered her services, if there was assistance she could offer. She was trying to keep eye contact, and in the small moments where her eyes wandered, it was still easy to figure out what might be on her mind. She was surprised by Vanessa’s height in comparison to other girls she had crushed on. There was still something surreal about realizing she was now an internet celebrity crush for people. Definitely an ego boost.

”You’re a tech nerd, aren’t you?” she accused coyly. ”You’ll fit right in here. I remember the first time I showed up here. After streaming from my amateur setup, I’m pretty sure this equipment gave me a tingly feeling.” It was amazing what a company with a budget could do.

Setting up the recording area was not a challenge, but it was boring. She was certain having Alice around would make things decidedly less boring. ”I’d be glad to have a hand. We’re streaming some PS4 games, so if you can make sure video capture devices are connected and actually working?” No one liked lost footage.

Vanessa moved to the next desk, sticking with the task of testing out the headsets and audio capture devices. She placed Vince’s headset over her ears and moved the mouthpiece in front of her lips. As she eyed the audio levels, she had to say something, so she figured it a good opportunity to talk more to Alice. ”So if this is your day one, has anyone warned you about that one total b**** that works here? Strikes fear into the hearts of interns? Makes your life total hell?” She looked over the monitor with a smirk. ”I’ve heard she has a thing for rainbow tank tops. Of course, if you strike up a conversation with her, you’re probably already a goner.” She did have that “Alpha B****” reputation, but somehow, she doubted that was going to be a problem for Alice.

Also, the audio levels were fine.

”Call me what you’d like,” Vanessa said directly. She added a wink, because a long life of being her taught her that her tone was easy to misinterpret. Winking and smirking were key elements in combating her “resting b**** voice,” so not everyone who met her immediately hated her.

Reaching into the fridge, Vanessa pulled out two long-neck bottles of some grapefruit beer. With summer in full swing, fruity drinks hit the spot on sunny days. Quickly using the bottle opener from her drawer, Vanessa handed one of the bottles over to Cece (Charlie) and smiled, gesturing the neck of the bottle in her direction. ”Cheers,” she said enthusiastically, taking a sip.

Charlie asked about her living situation, but she was also looking at the couch instead of meeting Vanessa’s eyes. Without eye contact, she was going to have a hard time getting answers to her own burning questions.

The answer, Vanessa considered, might be to play hard to get. If Charlie could ask more purposeful questions, perhaps something might hint to what she was digging around for. ”Well, I have no live-in girlfriend around, if that’s your worry. Otherwise, I might struggle to explain how I stumbled across another woman on the fire escape.” Playful, but not very helpful.

”Someone else is living here temporarily, but I have the place to myself today.” Intentionally vague. Vanessa wanted to know where Charlie might proceed from there.

With Charlie taking up a perch leaning against the couch, Vanessa slipped out of the kitchen area and leaned against the wall opposite her guest. Her eyes were trained on Charlie, even as she took another sip from her bottle. She wanted to ensure she did not miss any potential eye contact. ”So, you been in the city long? Based on your accent, I’m guessing you aren’t a New York Native.”

Being a teenager was a challenge for Vanessa. Coming out as a trans girl in high school came with struggles, but nothing quite as bad as cutting ties with her parents and dropping out her senior year. Until she was twenty-one, she busted her butt, working unfulfilling jobs and getting her GED. Survival and being happy with who she saw in the mirror were higher priorities than enjoying her work. Money was money.

Then good fortune smiled on Vanessa Bookman. Doing some independent streaming, she got the attention of David, the man who would become her friend and coworker. He hopped into the chat on her stream and asked to jump into her voice chat to play along. Before she knew it, he was encouraging her to drop by The POW Block Party studio.

Vanessa was sure she was being pranked. She spent enough time on the internet to consume plenty of TPBP’s content, and the past years of her life gave her no reason to think good things would fall into her lap. It seemed too good to be true, but she got a job working behind the scenes initially, before being pulled onto the main on-screen team for gaming content.

Cut to three years later and Vanessa was doing what she loved as a job. She played games, worked with the animation team, and even helped creatively with the company’s merch line. Life was going great, and it was all because someone had a hunch and took a chance on her.

The studio was large and comprised of several sets and offices for different content and departments. There was a recording session with the main team coming up, and they were going to be using face-cams, so Vanessa was using some down-time to make sure cameras and mics were positioned correctly. “Main Team” was a bit of a misnomer; once upon a time, there was one steady team of people in videos, but as everyone got more involved in different parts of the company, the team grew larger and more interchangeable. Nowadays, there were almost a dozen people, with four to eight playing in whatever video was being worked on.

Not everyone in the office was part of the “Main Team,” and some were not technically employees of The POW Block Party. “Life runs better with interns,” Gian liked to say, though Nessa was skeptical. Interns came and went, and because of how temporary the role was, many of them could not get a handle on particulars like drink and food orders, particularly for the one member of the team with a dietary restriction.

A white Styrofoam container was placed next to Vanessa while she was plugging cords into the PC. It took a moment for her mind to get out of work mode and register what happened. Some intern did the food run for the day, and was dropping off her meal.

As she opened the container, Vanessa was already calling out, making the assumption that the order was wrong. It always was. ”Hey, next time, remember I’m a v—huh.”

It was not wrong. She was looking down at vegetarian Pad Thai. Not only was the order right, but Pad Thai was one of her favorites. Someone was either paying attention or took a very lucky guess.

She turned to actually look at the intern, curious. ”I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

Booker accepted Vanessa’s advice because he knew it came from a place of love. She wanted her brother to be happy as much as she wanted happiness for herself. He was human and could make missteps like anyone else, but Booker was the one man in the world she genuinely believed to be inherently good. If his nurse was going to come back around, maybe they could be happy. If she did not, the pain of his decision would pass in time. Booker was catnip for men and women, and someone new would come along and tug at his hopeless romantic’s heart. She would help him get through the recovery period. It was what they did.

He smiled as she simultaneously complimented and insulted him. (Complisulted? Insulimented?) It was the right amount of Bookman sibling love: kind thoughts and catty words.

A foot nudged her and Booker asked about dinner. She had made extra on the off-chance Booker came home hungry, knowing she could have leftovers if it was unnecessary. Booker was the undisputed best chef in the apartment, but Vanessa could handle herself.

For someone who was hungry, he still found time to poke fun at her vegetarianism. Vanessa reached across the couch and softly punched his shoulder before getting to her feet. ”First of all, you know damn well I like eggs and milk too much to go vegan. Besides, my Pad Thai recipe calls for eggs.” She stopped herself, remembering one caveat of the meal she cooked. ”There is tofu, but if you’re going to be a whiny child, you can pick it out and be left with vegetarian Pad Thai.”

Vanessa walked into the kitchen and pulled a container from the fridge, along with two beers. She set everything down on the kitchen counter and turned to make sure Booker had followed. He might have been a sad sight that day, but expecting her to reheat and serve him was a stretch.

Getting close to her brother, Vanessa got on her toes and tossed her arms over his shoulders. Maybe it was the emotional rawness of the past week or two, but she wanted to share a hug and the comfort it could provide for both of them. She would never say it, but she liked standing next to and hugging her brother; she was on the taller side for a girl, but he had half a foot on her height-wise. It made her feel short, but in a good way. ”I’m glad I’m stuck with you, bro.”

Vanessa liked the way women shook hands with one another. It was soft and gentle and lacked any of the squeezing and bravado of men trying to one-up one another. April maintained steadfast eye contact, which was always appreciated when it opened Vanessa up for some thought-peeking. When she first developed her mutation, she worried about the violation of privacy she was committing. Now, it seemed like too much work to avoid glances, and it would only make her seem more suspicious.

Right away, Vanessa appreciated how genuine April was. The way she spoke was transparent; it almost defeated the purpose of being a mind-reader. They claimed each other as drinking partners, and she was curious to see where the night would take them. Vanessa had no expectations; the Rebecca wounds were still too fresh. She did like how open her new friend was about admiring her beauty. After what happened, little morale pick-me-ups and ego boosts were welcome.

April asked the cliché “talking to a girl at a bar” question, but her eyes made it clear she was oblivious to the trope she was feeding into. Vanessa smiled, giving her a pass. ”Regularly enough. I come here when I feel like combining my hobbies of gaming and drinking,” she joked, taking a deep sip of her cocktail. ”Is this your kind of scene? Are you a gamer girl or a cute newbie?” The Bonus Level sometimes intrigued non-gamers or people on the edge of nerd culture, and it was interesting to befriend those people. Some gamers could be ruthless to “casuals,” but Vanessa believed the gaming world worked best when it was welcoming and inclusive, (for obvious reasons.)

The blonde allowed Vanessa to lead her in through the window, joking about her baking accusations. She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning; it was important to make an effort to smile or grin, because Vanessa rolled her eyes so often, people might get the ludicrous idea that she was a bitch. ”It’s my way of saying it’s getting warm out these days. Also yes,” she admitted. Obviously, the intruder was pale, and there was no way she was oblivious to that fact.

If those blue eyes were to be believed, her new guest fancied herself quite the liar. She knew she was a pretty little liar, and unafraid to flaunt what she had working for her. If Vanessa were not so concerned about why she had a stalker, she would have been enjoying how badly the woman was unintentionally playing into her hands.

The blonde called herself Cece, but her thoughts betrayed her. Charlie. Whoever Charlie was, she was comfortable with casually slipping into an alias. Fake names, questionable stories, and impure motives. It seemed like too much effort to be a stalker fan. Who was she dealing with?

Vanessa eyed the bag at Charlie’s side, wondering what could have been important enough to bring onto the fire escape. She returned to the lovely blue eyes, but Charlie was not thinking about the bag. She was thinking about how hot Vanessa was. Of all the things she decided not to lie about, at least the mystery woman genuinely thought she was attractive. Little victories.

”Hmm, I dunno.” Vanessa looked over the kitchen counter to watch Charlie. ”Hot Chick with the Hammer does have a nice ring to it,” she faux-contemplated. Finally, she put the hammer down on the countertop and offered a hand. ”I’m Vanessa.”

Turning back to look in her fridge, stocked with juice, pop, and beer, she chose to be a hospitable host as she studied Charlie’s intentions. ”You must be hot, too. Would you like a drink?”