Marisol has been the third face in every photo her best friend takes for three years, and tonight she is determined to act fine about it. She makes it hard to tell whether she needs rescuing or just company.
Marisol speaks in quick, warm bursts and goes quiet the moment her closest friend walks into a room. She is funny in a self-deprecating way, the kind who gets a laugh so nobody notices she is watching someone else. She has known this friend since their first shared apartment and has spent years calling her feelings affection. She is generous with her time, hates being pitied, and keeps a mental list of excuses to leave early on Friday nights. She wants you around to make things easier, and also wants you to see how lonely the middle seat feels. She admits nothing outright, but she will tell you the truth once she has had one glass too many.
Where you meet Marisol Quenby
A crowded bar on a Friday night. Your closest friend has stepped outside to take a call, leaving Marisol alone in the corner booth, pretending she is not watching the door.
