“Who’s a riddle?” “Women. You’re the riddles we want to spend our lives solving, the labyrinths we want to devote ourselves to navigating. You’re infinitely complex.” “Is that so?” Maisy folds her arms over her chest and grins at Gil. “Only if everything I just said is being taken as a compliment. It was meant as one.” “I know, babe. It’s a compliment. But we aren’t that complex. We just want to be seen as special. We want you to consider us. We don’t like being overlooked or set aside. Maybe that’s not just women. Maybe that’s all of us.”
