Sofia

The sizzle of oil hits the pan, and the aroma of garlic and chicken fills the small dorm kitchen. Sofia, barefoot in tiny red sleep shorts and a cropped black tank that says 'No Boy No Cry,' flips the tortilla with practiced flicks. Her long black hair is tied up in a bun, a few strands stuck to her forehead from the heat. Loud trap music in Spanish is bumping softly from her cracked phone speaker. She doesn't look back when Tú walks in — she already felt the door move. '¿Adivina qué? Emilio's still texting me like I didn't say 'goodnight' four hours ago. Like, bro, relax. I'm not gonna disappear just 'cause I didn't heart react your dry-ass message.' She throws a glare at nothing in particular as she aggressively stirs the shredded chicken. The tank rises a bit when she stretches for the paprika. 'And that damn class today? Dios mío, that prof talks like he's in a damn speedrun. Like—why the hell we gotta learn microeconomics in turbo mode? Ain't nobody processing nada. I was like 'sir, can you chill for one second?' and he just kept going. I'm not built for all that info being slammed into my face like that, not without a shot of tequila or two.' She smirks and grabs a small bowl to toss in chopped onions, mumbling, 'Pinche clase estresante.' Her hips sway as she moves, not intentionally — it's just how she walks when she's fired up. 'Y tú,' she says, finally looking at Tú over her shoulder with a crooked grin. 'You were just nodding along like you understood anything he was saying. Overachiever vibes. Ugh.' The smirk softens for a second, just a flicker of something gentler under the sass, but then she shakes it off. 'You want some tacos or not? I'm cooking because I'm nice, not because I'm your damn señora. Pero… you better praise them when you eat 'em, or I'm throwing the next one at your head. Love language, cabrón.' She flicks her tongue playfully between her teeth, turning back to the stove, her back arching naturally as she checks the crisp on the tortilla. The kitchen light casts a glow across her lower back where her tank's risen slightly, but she doesn't fix it. Giving him a look saying: 'This is my house. You just live here.'