While Mia & Rochelle had met with their contact, Serena & Tiffany had staked out their target's manor and were walking back now. Gradually they had talked among themselves, and found out that they had absolutely nothing in common. Videogames & anime were not subjects Serena wished to discuss with normies, and as seen in her last appearance, Tiffany was no philosopher; she could not even hold an emotion long without expelling it from her brutish hulk.
So Serena felt forced, if only to get some reaction, ask her: "Okay, I gotta ask. What's your problem with Mia?"
"Mia?" said Tiffany as they walked. "I don't have a problem with Mia. Who told you I have a problem with her?"
'You, bitch!' thought Serena. "Um, I just notice the way you interact with her. I get the feeling you dislike her."
"Well, I don't. I don't think she's a bad president, or anything like that. Rochelle's the one I have issues with, so maybe you're picking up on that?" Tiffany shrugged. "I don't know what she's told you, but she *was* the one who broke up with me, you know."
"…she hasn't told me anything."
"Oh." Tiffany frowned. "I'm just letting you know that if she ever does talk to you, don't believe her about that."
"Tiffany, I don't talk to Rochelle. She's not friends with me, she's just friends with Mia."
"Yeah, I'm definitely aware of that." She still felt that there was something suspicious to Rochelle being named Mia's vice-president. It was often her habit to create mini-dramas that all happened to have her headlining; all actions would be judged by how they affected Tiffany. "Sorry. I just get a little sensitive if I feel like I'm being attacked, y'know? I mean, I was in the public spotlight for a year or two there, with her. I had to put up with a lot of crap dating her. And not just 'cause she's Black, y'know?"
"What, like harassment?"
"Yeah, but that wasn't the worst of it. I remember one time, it was her birthday, and I thought I'd be nice and clean her house while she was out. I get to her closet, and I just... I found all these really gross magazines she has. I'm sex-positive and all, but there's a point where it becomes excessive, and it's like cheating on somebody. I wonder if that's why she was the way she was in bed. I'd try to be a little more intimate with her, and she would always just shrivel up."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Serena, I'm just trying to make conversation, and I'm trying to think a few things out, okay? Jeez. Besides, I don't mind gossiping a little bit. I mean, I'm sure you know what people say about you."
Serena frowned. "Uh, and what is that, exactly?"
"Well, you know, they..."
"What?"
"Someone -- not me, mind you -- was saying you got a tattoo recently."
"But I don't have a tattoo."
"Exactly! Well, I mean, not that I would know. But think: if people just checked that with you, first, then everything would be cleared up. That's how I feel whenever people wanna go to Rochelle about what happened with us. I mean, I'd hate to think how she's badmouthing me to Mia."
++++++
The government had arranged a cabin for the four to stay at, and having listened to Tiffany the entire way back, Serena offered to cook dinner with Mia.
Mia crouched down and searched through the cupboard. "They said they... left a cookbook for us, somewhere... ah, here." She pulled out a cookbook and started flipping through it. "Did you take pictures of his home?"
"I did, yeah." She showed them to Mia. "I guess it'll kinda be like dueling with Yuruko, right?"
"Or the woman last summer." muttered Mia. "Without Xenocyclin."
Four years ago Mia wouldn't have ever wanted anything to do with a three-letter agency, but with some hesitation, had accepted after debriefing. While not conspiratorial, she tended to distrust the government. She viewed it in a sort of way where she subtly identified it as the cause of her family's poverty, in that they could have easily ended it if they so chose.
"Enchiladas sounds good." said Serena.
Mia pulled plates & a casserole dish out of the cupboard. Streams of fog created the ingredients. "Have you and Naomi talked recently?"
"Um, we talk every now and then, but -- I mean, we weren't as close as you and me. Probably 'cuz we weren't living together."
"I know. I was surprised you never had her move in."
"Um, Mia, I live with Yuruko."
Mia seemed confused, remembered that Serena was not merely her protege, but a human who possibly even had sex, then felt a little sad as she checked the cookbook. "…alright, I suppose. 350 degrees for one hour."
"Uh, does Mexico use Fahrenheit or Celsius?"
Mia shrugged, and in the next instant -
- the enchiladas crumbled to black ash and the two burst out laughing -
"-what the fuck -" cackled Serena -
"-I thought it was a little too hot-" laughed Mia - "- I thought it was in Celsius, but- go again."
"Okay." Serena refilled the ingredients, and in the next instant -
- the enchiladas burst in to flames -
- and disintegrated without a single ash left.
Mia frowned as she turned to Serena. "Serena, what type of cheese did you make?"
"Um, mozzarella?"
"What Mexican dish do you know uses mozzarella?"
"Didn't you just think Mexico uses Celsius?"
"Don't change the subject on me, shortie." 6'0 Mia crouched to meet 5'0" Serena's eyes. "…and besides. My Solar Beam is one sextillion degrees. At that temperature, I don't need to know the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius. But everyone knows mozzarella is Italian."
"Okay, second question: why are you summoning scarabs under my shoes?"
"…I thought I could do that without you noticing." muttered Mia and stood up. "I was going to disintegrate the floor and make you look even shorter. But seriously, what cheese is it? Read the recipe again."
Serena ducked her head into the cookbook. "…umm… oh, cheddar."
She looked back and Mia was 7'0", clacking her ice heels together.
One hour later, Mia finished her failed attempts at enchiladas (which she privately blamed on Serena's ingredients) and decided to cook them manually, so another hour later and she brought them out to Rochelle & Tiffany. Mia decided to crack the silence by talking over their strategy for their target, and after some consideration, swapped the pairs so that Tiffany would be with Mia and Rochelle with Serena tomorrow.
This was partially because, in Mia's view, Tiffany was almost certain to try some shit and she would rather it be direct than indirect where it could harm Serena. Given the above repartee between Tiffany and Serena, which was Moby-Dick in comparison to dialogues not written, Serena was not displeased by this arrangement either.
She had been thinking over Tiffany's mention of the tattoo rumor, which as you've seen, was Naomi's creation to deflect from the bigoted gossip around her former mentor & friend. She did not necessarily wish to confront that there were people around campus who knew that she was transgender, and would treat her accordingly despite Kamon.
She no longer considered herself transgender, after Kamon. Biologically she might have been, but culturally she was not; she had no transgender friends and no connection to the larger community, so she denied both. There was simply too much difference between herself and transgender women to allow for a common life. She subtly thought of them as not fully female in comparison to herself, and the idea of them reminded her of the fear & shame she had felt in her younger years. By denying them, she could be the one boxing them out of womanhood; she could control legitimacy rather than be victimized by it like she had.
One cannot entirely blame Serena for this. Much of it was how she had been conditioned to view herself, speak of herself to others. Her definition of womanhood was limited by her inability to alone rupture it, so she still must pay mute tribute to it.
In the midst of night she awoke and saw that Tiffany was not in bed. Slightly worried, she sat up in bed and heard a voice quietly outside, then checked their window. Tiffany was some distance away, and whispering to herself.
"Are you seeing anyone?" Her fingers ran her hair back. "...um, how do I look?" She smiled. "You look fit. Have you been working out lately?"
For minutes she continued. It was not the type of love Serena felt would be written about, but it was one she recognized nonetheless, for she was reminded of a similar scene she once witnessed of her mother. Soon as she laid in bed and listened, her eyes began to fold over themselves, eased by rhythms of past memory that moved her to sleep as easily as they had in her childhood.