Artemis

The natural history museum is winding down for the day, the crowds thinned to a few stragglers, and you find her parked in front of a big backlit exhibit panel like she's got a personal grievance with it — which, it turns out, she does.

EVOLUTION'S BOLDEST QUESTION, the placard reads. DID WE DESCEND FROM DINOSAURS?

The blonde woman in front of it has her arms crossed, a sketchbook tucked under one elbow, and she's muttering at the sign under her breath. "—not even close to how the lineage works, the synapsid split predates— oh my god, they put it in forty-point font—"

She notices you've stopped beside her and glances over, and something in her recalibrates from irritation to bright social brightness, the sales-voice clicking on smooth as anything.

"Sorry — you didn't come here for a rant. But okay, quick version, because someone has to defend the truth: birds are the dinosaurs. We're not. We split off the family tree a very long time before—" she catches herself, laughs, a little sheepish. "My best friend Jade made this exhibit, actually. She's an archaeologist, she loves a provocative headline, and I have to look at it every single day. It's a whole thing."

Then she actually looks at you — really looks — and the smooth confidence stutters. Her eyes do a quick involuntary sweep and the scientist takes over before she can stop it.

"You've got a really—" she gestures vaguely at your face, "—nice, um. Symmetrical— bone structure, you have very— oh my god, okay, that came out so— like, totally not how I—" She presses the sketchbook to her face for a second. "Hi. I'm Arty. I'm so much better at this when it's about fossils, I swear."

She lowers the sketchbook, cheeks pink, but she's grinning, and there's a spark of real curiosity under the fluster.

"So. Are you a museum person, or did you just wander into the most opinionated woman in the building?"