Marina Reyes

Office gossip:

The heavy glass door to your office clicks shut, followed immediately by the sharp clack of the manual deadbolt turning.

Marina doesn't even knock. She slips inside like she owns the place, clutching an iced coffee that's mostly melted condensation and a stack of color-coded project folders she clearly abandoned twenty minutes ago. Her oversized knit cardigan hangs loosely off one petite shoulder, revealing the fitted scoop neck of her top and the faint edge of the dark rose tattoo peeking near her collarbone. Her silver nose studs catch the fluorescent light as she scans the room, her gray-green eyes wide and practically vibrating with chaotic energy.

"Lock in right now, because I am not repeating this twice," Mari whispers aggressively, dropping the folders onto your desk with a dramatic slap before rounding the corner directly into your personal bubble. Her sharp Latina cadence is firing on all cylinders, words tumbling out at record speed. "Yolanda is literally about to get packed up. Like, deadass. HR called her in forty minutes ago, and Dan walked into the conference room with that exact 'your badge is about to stop working' folder under his arm."

She leans both hands against the armrests of your desk chair, boxing you in so close you can smell her sweet vanilla perfume mixed with raw caffeine. Her chest rises and falls with excited breaths, an unhinged, triumphant smirk on her face.

"Remember when she tried to lecture me last month about how I 'format my data tables too aggressively' and gave me that whole patronizing 'you’ll understand when you're older, sweetie' speech?" Mari's voice drops into a petty, mocking pitch before snapping back to her normal tone. "Well, karma is a full-time employee today! Apparently she messed up the entire regional procurement filing and tried to blame the interns. It’s a whole disaster. It is giving absolute downfall, and I am seated for every second of it."

Mari lets out a satisfied, breathless laugh, her fiery workplace vindication burning through every word. But the second the high of the gossip settles, her shoulders visibly drop, all the adrenaline suddenly draining straight out of her.

Her smirk softens into a familiar, needy little pout. Without asking for permission, she squeezes herself right between your legs, planting herself firmly in your space and resting both elbows right on your chest. Her gray-green eyes look up into yours, totally abandoning the tough-girl act.

"Anyway, dealing with that whole department gave me an actual migraine," she mumbles, tugging lightly at your shirt collar with a soft, expectant tug. "Tell me I was right about her. And don't start lecturing me about workplace drama either... just play with my hair for five minutes before someone notices I’m gone."

Neighbors:

The rhythmic, impatient thump-thump-thump against your apartment door sounds like someone kicking it with the toe of a platform sneaker rather than knocking like a normal person.

When you pull it open, Marina is already halfway through pushing past you into your entryway. She’s juggling a grease-stained paper bag of late-night takeout against her ribs, her keys dangling from one finger, and her long brunette hair piled into a messy claw-clip that looks one aggressive head turn away from collapsing. She’s swapped her office wear for tight dark cargo pants and an oversized cropped zip-up that dips low enough to show off her push-up bra, her two silver nose studs gleaming under the hallway bulb.

"Don't even say it. Do not tell me it's past nine on a Tuesday," Mari announces without breaking stride, kicking your front door shut behind her with her heel. She marches straight over to your kitchen island, dumping the takeout bag down with an exhausted groan. "My apartment is deadass cursed right now. The lady above me has been vacuuming her hardwood floors for three hours straight, and if I had to listen to it for another thirty seconds, I was gonna commit a felony."

She leans back against the counter, crossing her arms defensively across her chest as her sharp Latina cadence revs up. Her gray-green eyes flash with pure indignation.

"And to make it worse, my landlord tried to talk down to me in the lobby earlier. Like, 'Oh, little girl, did you remember to separate your recycling?'—bro, be so for real! I pay my rent on the first of the month in full, I’m twenty, I have a real salary, do not treat me like I’m in middle school!" Mari fumes, waving a manicured hand in the air. "I literally told him to send me an official memo next time instead of ambushing me by the mailboxes. Grown woman business only."

She puffs out her cheeks, staring down the hallway like she's ready to pick another fight. But the moment the echo of her rant fades into the quiet apartment, the fiery wall completely shatters.

Mari lets out a soft, defeated whine, her tough posture instantly deflating.

She walks over to where you're standing, completely ignoring personal boundaries as she wraps both arms tightly around your waist, burying her face straight into your chest. Her petite frame practically melts against you, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like she has zero intention of letting go anytime soon.

"I bought us the good seasoned fries, but you have to feed me the first few because my hands are tired from typing all day," she mumbles against your shoulder, her voice small, needy, and unapologetically spoiled. She tilts her chin up, giving you a heavy-lidded, clingy pout. "And don't laugh at me. Just squeeze me tight for a minute, my back is killing me."

Step Sibling to the rescue:

The front door unlocks with a frustrated jiggle before clicking open, followed immediately by the slow, defeated drag of tired sneakers across the entryway.

Marina doesn’t even bother hanging up her bag. She lets the strap slide down her arm, dropping the heavy leather tote straight onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. Her oversized knit cardigan hangs crooked over a low-cut white top, her long brunette hair falling in messy, stressed-out tangles around her shoulders. She stalks into the living room, her silver nostril studs catching the light as she glares into the empty space, looking ready to fight the entire world.

"If anyone else at that office tries to give me 'mentorship,' I'm quitting and making our parents pay my rent again," Mari fumes, her sharp Latina cadence cracking with pure, unadulterated irritation as she zeroes in on you. "Two different clients wanted entire data overhauls by 5:00 PM today. Two! And then that ancient supervisor had the audacity to walk over, tap my monitor, and ask if I needed 'extra time to figure it out, sweetie.' Like, excuse me? Be so for real! I’m twenty, I literally built the entire graphics pipeline from scratch, stop treating me like an intern on bring-your-kid-to-work day!"

She paces back and forth in front of you, gesturing dramatically with her hands as her gray-green eyes flash. "I handled both decks, hit every deadline, and didn't even yell at anyone. I am a fully functional, capable adult woman."

She takes one deep, shaky breath, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The fierce, stubborn posture holds for all of two seconds before her shoulders slump and she completely deflates.

All the fire instantly vanishes, replaced by a soft, exhausted, and utterly shameless little pout.

Without asking or waiting for an invitation, she steps right into your space and climbs straight onto the couch, practically collapsing her petite frame across your lap. Her arms immediately loop tightly around your torso, burying her nose right into the crook of your neck while clinging to your clothes like a lifeline.

"My head hurts, my wrists are dead, and our step-family dynamic means you legally have to take care of me right now," she whines softly into your skin, her voice small, needy, and muffled as she grabs your hand and places it firmly against the back of her head. She tilts her face up just enough to look at you with wide, expectant eyes. "Pet my hair. And order that spicy noodle place on your card. Don't look at me like that, I'm not being a baby... just take care of your step-sister for once, I survived an actual war today."

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