Edain was expecting the place to be a bit louder. I mean, it was a bowling alley- y'know, a bowling alley. People talking, children screaming, music blasting from the speakers at unspeakable volumes... why was none of that here? The only person she had seen was the guy at the desk, and he barely raised his voice above a dispassionate murmur.
She wasn't complaining, though. There was no reason to complain. If it had been as she had feared, then she would've gone straight home; aside from some vague social obligation, she had no stake in this whatsoever.
It wasn't her curiosity being sated, after all.
The wasp was kept in a plastic box with air holes drilled into the lid, and it was on its best behaviour. Even if the desk-guy had seen it in her hands, he wouldn't know anything was up- it looked like a model in its stillness, rather than a living creature. Would he have apprehended her if it moved? Did he know what a tarantula hawk wasp looked like- did he know what they could do?
Edain made her way towards a dark, secluded corner, and sat down.
Siren was dressed in a trim suit, wide sunglasses covering her eyes. She wasn't exactly sure why she picked this - something about this meeting felt sneaky, secretive, and the style spoke to her. Besides, sunglasses were nice. They let you watch people without seeming like a total weirdo. She stayed near the back of the alley, watching the families and clubs and college study clubs send balls crashing down smooth wooden floors, waiting a tad impatiently for the arrival of her newest friend.
She almost started a pointless conversation with the guy behind the front desk out of growing boredom - he had a cute dimple when he smiled - but the strange woman from the bar appeared, quickly brushing along the sides of the alley and settling in a booth in the corner. With a skip in her step, she made her way over, sliding into the booth and clasping her hands tight on the table.
"You got the goods?" she asked, voice low and gravely, head tilting to let her peer over her sunglasses. After a pause, she cracked a wide grin. "Feels like a drug deal, this. What does twenty grams of wasp go for?"
Amanda was dressed formally. A suit and sunglasses- she looked like she had walked right out of an action movie, like a femme-fatale in thin disguise, ready to unfurl and reveal a rocket launcher hidden beneath her blouse, or something. There was nothing hidden beneath Edain's blouse. Nothing except for the mass of insects that made up her body- and, admittedly, the clothing that adorned it.
Her head snapped up as soon as her companion made herself apparent, and she offered a polite wave.
"Drugs? Oh, don't get me started," She rolled her eyes at the mention, "Had some outreach person harass me in a park last night- I don't need anyone else thinking I'm... uh..."
She sighed.
"Oh, and it depends on the species. And the source. I only buy from reputable sellers- you wouldn't think it, but poaching is actually a pretty big issue in the insect market. Makes it easy for fuckin' Isabella from Pinterest to get her orchid mantis, but a right arse-ache for anyone trying to do proper research. Rest assured-"
The weirdness was still very, definitely there. Something about the woman was wrong - fuzzy, grainy, like she was from an old home movie while everyone else was in HD. And - a little something else. A persistent, low humming.
It was exciting, wasn't it? Exciting to think about what it could mean, to consider how it might connect to all the other weird stuff going down. Pittsburgh, the city of mysteries.
"Hey, there, little buddy." Siren said, leaning over to look at the wasp in the box with rapt attention. "You're a lot prettier in person, huh? I love the - rainbow look. So shiny."
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Edain smiled, "Y'know, quite a few species of wasp have that sort of iridescence to them; a favourite of mine is Ampulex Compressa- the emerald jewel wasp, for the common name. The way they lay their eggs is just- oh, I'm getting ahead of myself again. Sorry. Don't mean to steal the spotlight."
It was clear that the last part was meant for the wasp.
"Right, let's get you both situated."
Edain picked up the box, gestured for Amanda to show her arm, and placed it neatly against the skin. With a swift motion, she slid the plastic lid out from underneath it, allowing the wasp to make contact with her arm and... not sting her. Not yet. In fact, it was just standing still, more like a child's toy than anything dangerous- anything alive.
"Are you... like, are you sure you want to go through with this?"
"Absolutely," she replied firmly, without hesitation. She held her arm out, soft side up, watching intently as the wasp was gently pressed against the skin. "She's very calm. I'm honestly a little surprised she didn't sting me right away. One time I was - vacationing - in Asia, and I fell off a wall I was climbing into a nest. Well, onto a nest. The nest was probably underground."
Siren smirked.
"They weren't nearly as calm about that, but I guess it might be a different species thing?"
She leaned in, watching the hornet sway on her arm.
"Oh, they don't- they don't sting unless agitated." She explained, "You falling into a nest probably pissed them off enough to defend themselves- I mean, you'd be pretty mad if someone broke into your house. I know I wa- would be."
Not a shred of sympathy for her companion, of course. A similar fate met Edain, when she was a girl- every time she was cut, she would be swarmed. Granted, most of the insects she encountered didn't sting her, but she didn't find that all too relevant. This wasp wasn't stinging Amanda, was it? Wait- was it meant to? Surely being trapped in a box would be enough to agitate it to the point of self-defence- Edain was pretty sure the wasp who stung her back in the day was placed in a fairly similar situation...
"Well, if you're sure."
The wasp stung her. Edain sat back, observing her companion with... well, it couldn't be curiosity, could it? She already knew what happened when a tarantula hawk wasp stung someone, everyone in her field did. Still, perhaps there was a little scientific interest left in there.
After all, she didn't yet know what it felt like from the other side.
The stinger flexed out, a curved needle, its smooth point sliding beneath Siren's skin. She watched intently as the skin turned red, then began to puff up around the site, fluids rushing in to cushion the toxin's damage. More interesting, though, was the fact the wasp only stung her once - then immediately stopped moving again, as if it'd done it on command. Eyebrows raised, Siren looked up at the strange woman.
"And that's it? I'd think - well, I thought it would've stung more than once. Bit me a bit. Buzzed around. You know, the stuff normal wasps do. It's - really well behaved."
...Oh? That was her reaction? Just... oh? Edain raised an eyebrow. She could see, very clearly, that the wasp had stung her, and that the sting did have an effect, but... just... just oh?
'What do you mean, that's it?" She asked, her tone more inquisitive than accusatory, "This wasp delivers the most painful sting in recorded history, and you're asking me if-"
Edain caught herself, an act almost more physical than verbal. She stopped, paused to take a breath, then finally acknowledged Amanda's own question.
"It stung you because it had something to sting." She lied, matter-of-factly, "I-I mean, you don't exactly need a degree in entomology to know that wasp stings can't penetrate solid acrylic. Not, uh... not normal- not real wasps, I should say. Not yet. I, ah... I could work on that, if you want it to try and sting you through fuckin' plastic. But there's no point."
The bug lady seemed flustered. Siren couldn't help but feel a little bit of satisfaction, at that - it was fun to keep people on their toes, and matching the other woman's stare with a calm smile seemed to be doing just that. More fun, though, was the tangled explanation, or, well, justification for why the wasp had only stung her once. At least, that's what Siren assumed the justification was for. There was some rambling bit about stinging through plastic that made no sense, but she'd just chalk that up to surprise.
Surprise and - something else. The wasp stung her again. Bug lady was hiding something.
"So."
Siren slipped her arm away from the cup, leaving it hovering, open-topped, above the table.
"How'd you do it?" She grinned, leaning in, hopping her shoes up onto the bench to lean in even more. "And before you say anything, look. First, wasp only stung me once. Just a little - pop!"
She flared her fingers for emphasis.
"Then, when I asked why it only stung me once, and only then, it stung me again. Pop pop!"
Two more flares.
"And then I pull back - and your very angry wasp doesn't leave its cup. Either you've trained that thing better than most people train their dogs, or you're doing something, and I'm betting a full round of bowling on number two. I can hear the buzz. Is it - supersonic science stuff? Can you talk to bugs? Are you whispering in waspanese under your breath, be on your best bee-havior!"
The grin widened, and Siren laced her fingers together, two puffy bumps on her arm on full display.
"See, yeah, getting stung was pretty cool. I'm a thrillseeker! I like thrills, I've stuck a lot of needles in my arms over the years and your little friend there's just the newest experience. But you - you're what's really interesting. So tell me! I can keep a secret. I promise."
"Insect behaviour isn't my department. You'll have to talk to my colleague."
Edain pulled the box away and sealed it shut, tucking it back into her pocket.
"You didn't- that didn't hurt you? Like, at all?" She frowned, "Now- okay, that- that's what's weird here, never mind all the minutiae of fucking- fucking wasp behaviour, or whatever."
She pointed accusatively.
"You received the most painful and dangerous insect sting in recorded history- not once, but twice. And you're... I mean, look at you- you're completely fine. Didn't even flinch. How is that not weird? What's- what's going on with you, Amanda?"
"I mean, come on. Tons of things can cut off pain, right? Disorders, chemicals, old injuries, all that." She turned her fingers outward, pointing at Edain - not accusatory, more playfully. "You can't tell me that's weirder than being able to train a wasp.
With all the giddiness of a child, she rocked back and forth on her dress-shoes, leather squeaking.
"I knew there was something special about you. You're all - fuzzy. Like a bunch of dots moving around where your face should be. No offense! Not like that's a bad thing, it's an interesting thing, and being interesting is really a good thing, wouldn't you think?"
She settled back into her seat a bit, still in a squat, back against the booth.
"There's nothing worse than boring. It's like death, but you're still around to feel it."
"I'm just... I'm boring, alright? I'm a fucking- I'm an entomologist. I study bugs for a living. That's the only weird thing about me- everything else is just... normal."
She sounded almost wounded.
"Please don't take interest in me. I don't like what comes of it."
She glanced up, finally looking at Amanda.
"You must, like, need glasses, or something. I don't know. I don't know."
Then, with another laboured sigh, Edain stood up and turned away.
"Hey, now, don't be like that!" Siren quickly said, hopping out of her seat as well, reaching out a hand for the other woman's shoulder. She offered another smile - not coy this time, but reassuring, in a somewhat awkward, simple way. "Look, you're like - basically a biologist, right?"
Were entomologists a type of biologist?
"So you know how cool this is. All of this is. The fact we're breathing, our hearts are beating, our lungs are pushing noises through our throats that gets - processed by freaking lightning in our heads to mean something more, none of that is boring. Even if you were the most plain bread person in the world, you'd still be cool because you're alive." She moved around to where Edain was facing, hand shifting to the side of her arm. "But there's more to it. Boring isn't - like - an inherent trait. It isn't something people are, it's something people feel. You've gotta - see beauty in the little things, you've gotta be curious, you've gotta ask questions, and experience, and learn. That light in your eyes when you talk about things you care about shows how much you value it, and to me, that's one of the most interesting things in the world."
Her voice fell a little.
"So don't you dare put yourself down. You're cool, alright? You get it."
She stuttered, unable to find the words as quickly as she'd like. She felt like a fucking teenager, like a child- like this was all another schoolyard trick she was stupid enough—weird enough—to fall for. It was all she could do to assume Amanda's words were hollow- but, what did that say about her? Her therapist had told her about thinking like this, about assuming the worst of people. Besides, Amanda was right- being alive was cool. Maybe she was just in love with humanity as a whole- Edain couldn't relate, but that was because she found her own form more interesting. So... maybe she could relate? Maybe she could agree, even? Fuck. Fuck, what was she going to-
"I don't want to be cool."
That was what she usually fell back on, anyway. Edain frowned, but turned back towards the booth regardless.
"Look, Amanda, I'm a thirty-one year old academic with two friends and as many diagnoses as I have fingernails. This is- the bar, when we first met, that was the first time I had left my apartment for two months. All I ever wanted was to be boring- or just normal. And, I guess-"
She paused. She guessed... what? That being made of bugs somehow made her more normal than she was before? More human, in the eyes of a passer-by?
"Come to my apartment next week, same time." Edain said, "You're on the right track about some things, but I'd... I'd rather not say them out here, in public."
She gestured to the space around them- to the empty, unpopulated bowling alley, where nobody was around to hear them.