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"I don't get it."
"What's there to get?" Catra sounds exasperated.
"It doesn't make sense," Entrapta continues. "She acted like she hated him. And then she kissed him! So she was lying? Why?"
The three of them are sprawled across Scorpia's basement floor, and if Catra's mad at anyone, she should be mad at Scorpia, who insisted they spend two hours watching this "rom-com" thing. It's not Entrapta's fault that the people in this movie make no sense.
"Duh," Catra says.
"I think you need to explain a little more than that," Scorpia says.
"It's pretty obvious," Catra says. "They both wanted to bang the whole time."
Entrapta frowns.
That seems like a terrible idea. A series of terrible ideas. If the heroine had just told her love interest that she liked him, maybe in the first five minutes, the entire plot of the movie could have been avoided, and then she and Catra and Scorpia wouldn't have had to watch it and they could have gone to Starbucks to collect data about which age demographics prefer vegan milks, like she'd wanted to originally.
Entrapta thinks through the plot of the movie. She imagines the events like circuits, one lighting up the next. The plot still comes back to that one thing: "But why did she lie?"
Catra rolls her eyes. "People lie, Entrapta. They just do."
"You lie, Catra," Entrapta says. "But Adora doesn't lie. And Scorpia doesn't lie."
"Hey!" Catra protests, but Entrapta didn't mean for it to be an insult; it's just the truth.
"Feelings are hard," Scorpia says, in her quick-let's-placate-Catra tone. "It's not always easy to tell someone about your feelings. Sometimes people are scared. To admit what they really feel, you know? So they lie." Scorpia leans back against the couch and sighs, clutching a pillow to her chest. "My favourite character in this one is Nathan. He does the right thing and he still doesn't get the girl. So tragic!"
Nathan is the heroine's childhood best friend, and he helps her get together with her love interest, except that he's also in love with her, but he hides it because he knows she's in love with the other guy.
Entrapta's assessment of Nathan's character is that he's dumb for intentionally screwing himself over.
"Yeah. I don't get it," Entrapta says again. "Can we go to Starbucks now?"
Obviously, Entrapta knows that humans can feel one thing and say another. You have to take that into account when you're figuring out what their words mean. Denotation. Context.
Still, sometimes — okay, a lot of the time — her friends do things that are totally unexpected, based on what she'd established their motivations are. And this is probably why: the lying-about-feelings thing. It mostly seems to crop up when it's about who likes who, or doesn't like who, or when people want to kiss each other.
Entrapta doesn't get it, but maybe if she got it, she could predict everyone with more accuracy. And then Perfuma wouldn't glare at her anymore for saying something "that's really, really insensitive, and even kind of mean, Entrapta!"
And that's when she starts to feel it. The spark of, "Ooh, shiny!" that draws her to an interesting new thing that's going to be an obsession. Her psychologist told her to just Go With It when a new special interest pops up, says it's good for her dopamine levels, unless, of course, it has to do with hacking top-secret government tech in her spare time, which was her last special interest, which was what got her assigned a psychologist in the first place, along with a stern letter from the FBI, but —
But feelings? That's fine. That can't possibly cause any trouble. It's just teenage human stuff.
*
Entrapta does her research. It's always important to conduct a full survey of the field before attempting any experiments of your own.
So she goes to Starbucks and surreptitiously records conversations between humans who seem romantically involved, collecting a range of data for the human attraction prediction AI she's coding.
She watches 500 Days of Summer and 10 Things I Hate About You and a local college production of Much Ado About Nothing, all of which feature humans lying to themselves and others in confusing, overcomplicated ways.
She reads everything by John Green and Rainbow Rowell — that goes a bit better, because when you read a book, the narrative voice gives you insight into the protagonist's thought process. But then again, it's rarely a thought process that makes any sense. People lie constantly. Not only to other people but in their own heads. Why would you bother lying to yourself? Entrapta wonders. Doesn't that make it impossible to achieve what you want? Even when a book tells her exactly what a character's doing, she still doesn't get why.
Maybe field research would work better.
*
On the bus to the next town over, Entrapta tucks her book into her backpack and gets out her notebook and pen, ready to do some people-watching. It's a good time for it, too — the entire soccer team and the cheerleading team are crowded into a small space together, forced to stay there for two hours until they get to the stadium for playoffs. Perfect! A primordial soup of teenage hormones.
"Entrapta," Catra says from beside her on the seat, "why are you staring at me?"
"I'm watching you watch Adora."
"What?" Catra hisses. She looks around: no one's listening in. A few rows up, Adora's sitting with Bow and Glimmer and Perfuma and the rest of the cheer team, and they're laughing too loudly to pay attention to anything else. "I'm not watching Adora! Jeez."
"You've been watching her for ten minutes."
"I'm not watching her," Catra says again, slouching down in her seat and looking out the window. "I'm just — she's annoying! They're so loud up there."
Entrapta makes a note of that. Adora's laughter annoys Catra. She puts a question mark next to it and says, "Do you not like Adora any more?"
"Why would you say that?!"
"Well," Entrapta says, "You guys have been best friends forever. But lately whenever she's around, you cross your arms, and frown, and raise your eyebrows, and other hostile behaviours."
Catra looks down at her arms: they are, actually, crossed. She scowls and uncrosses them. "I don't know!" she says. "I don't even know if we're best friends anymore. Ever since she joined the cheer team we barely hang out."
"You hang out all the time," Entrapta points out. Catra is clearly wrong; doesn't she know the facts of her own life? "You saw her five times after school this week. Whenever you're not hanging out with me and Scorpia, you're hanging out with Adora."
"Yeah, well, not as much as we used to."
"You still see her all the time at soccer practice."
"Whatever!" Catra mutters. "Her head's not in the game lately. She shouldn't even be captain, not when her attention's split between the cheer team and the soccer team. Hey, what's with the twenty questions, anyway?"
"Well," Entrapta says. "I'm trying to collect data on body language." Catra didn't answer her question. But is it worth dealing with grumpy Catra to get her question answered? Probably not.
"If you want body language," Catra says, "you should look at that mess up there." She points at the cluster of cheerleaders: Adora, Bow, Glimmer, and Perfuma.
Entrapta looks. Adora is smiling. Bow is laughing and smiling. Perfuma has an arm thrown around Bow's shoulders, and around Glimmer's, on the other side. They all read as "happy." Except, wait, no — Glimmer isn't smiling. She has a very small frown on her face.
Yesterday night, while mapping out friendship flowcharts for everyone in their social group instead of doing her History homework, Entrapta noticed something strange. She flips back a few pages in her notebook to examine it. Maybe — hmm. Maybe.
"Are Adora and Bow and Glimmer in a love triangle?" she asks.
Catra laughs aloud at that. "Yeah, right." She shakes her head. "More like some kind of weird, codependent threesome."
"Hey, guys! Who's having a threesome?"
Entrapta feels herself squished sideways as Scorpia slides into their seat, grinning.
"There's not enough room for you," Catra grumbles, immediately shuffling over to make room.
Oh, good. Now that Scorpia's here, Entrapta doesn't have to deal with grumpy Catra anymore: Catra's smiling.
"What's a threesome?" Entrapta asks.
Scorpia opens her mouth to answer, but Catra says, really fast: "Oh, God, Scorpia, don't tell her."
"Don't tell her what?" Adora asks.
"Where are you all popping up from," Catra mutters.
Adora commandeers the seat in front of them, facing backwards, arms slung across the seat back.
"Hey, you," she says, grinning at Catra.
Scorpia says, "We were just telling Entrapta about thr—"
"We were just," Catra cuts in, "talking strategy for the game. Which you should be doing, too, captain. You'd better get your head on straight. Don't let cheer squad get in the way of winning."
"No way," Adora says. "I'm gonna cheer for us to win. And then I'm gonna get in the game and win! That's a promise."
"Yeah," Catra says, "sure, Adora. Whatever."
But Catra's not frowning any more: she's doing that weird facial expression where she scowls and smiles at the same time. It's all garbled and weird, like way too many faces are trying to crowd into a tiny closet together. Entrapta finds this expression hilariously enjoyable. She notices it a lot when Adora's around.
Hm, maybe she should jot that down in her notebook, too.
*
Entrapta theorizes.
Fact #1: Adora, Bow, and Glimmer hang out all the time.
(Entrapta used to hang out a lot with Adora and the cheerleaders, but even though they're all good friends, still, a lot of her experiments seemed to stress them out. Especially when the experiments got them detention. So she started hanging out more with Catra and Scorpia, who like to tag along on her experiments, and never call her weird, and don't mind detention. And everyone seems less stressed out now. So that's good.)
Fact #2: Adora, Bow, and Glimmer are always happy, except for when Glimmer isn't, and that seems to be a recent aberration — Catra's been calling them the "rainbows and unicorns squad" all year. So: that means something is going on.
And Entrapta's going to figure out what it is.
According to the logs, Glimmer's sent 52 text messages to Adora and 58 text messages to Bow in the last three days. It's a very slight margin, but Entrapta decides it's better to start with a single variable anyway, so she picks the Glimmer-Bow axis first.
Hmm. In the movies, the boy always seems to be the one who flirts at the girl, but Entrapta's never seen a movie she's liked (despite Scorpia's efforts) and honestly, Bow just doesn't seem the type. Therefore.
It's as easy as quadratic equations to slide into Glimmer and Bow's texts.
And when Ms. Weaver demands to know why Entrapta hasn't finished her Chem lab the next morning, she can't exactly explain that it's not her fault, she was busy pretending to be Glimmer in Bow's text messages for her experiment.
*
Glimmer
You're pretty, Bow. Prettier than Adora.
Bow
Aww, thanks Glimmer. :)
I wish! We both know that's not true though!
Glimmer
I like you.
Bow
I like you tooooo! <333
Hey are you done this week's Chem lab yet? Can I copy it at lunch
Glimmer
How much do you like me?
Bow
THIS MUCH:
infinity x 1000000000000000000000000000 + infinity
Glimmer
Good! That's a lot.
Bow
Seriously though can I copy it, I got a negative result in my equation and I don't think that's possible
Glimmer
What's a threesome?
Bow
GLIMMER!!!
:O
I CAN'T ANSWER THAT YOU'RE SO EMBARRASSING WHY ARE YOU BEING SO WEIRD ON A SCHOOL NIGHT
Are you okay?
You really are being kind of weird
Actually you've been kind of weird all the time lately
Seriously, are you okay? Is something wrong? Are you mad at me?
Glimmer
I want to kiss you.
A long pause. The "..." appears, indicating that Bow is typing, but not sending, a message. Knowing that this is significant, Entrapta notes this down in her observations.
Bow
Are you sure we should do that again?
I mean, I thought we all agreed
it was nice
but we didn't really feel that way
"Huh?" Entrapta says. "That's ... unexpected."
"What's unexpected?" Catra says from Entrapta's bedroom floor, where she and Scorpia are playing a video game that involves tiny pixel characters on a tiny pixel farm.
"Humans," Entrapta says.
Glimmer
Meet me outside our lockers after school tomorrow? 4PM.
Entrapta logs out of the program, logs in again on a different channel, and sends the exact same message from "Bow" to Glimmer (actual Glimmer).
Her work here is done. The rest is up to gravity and atoms colliding, and — if rom-coms are to be believed — fate.
*
Hacking's not bad as long as you're not hacking the government, right?
*
Entrapta is by the lockers at 3:55 PM, hiding just inside the door of a nearby empty classroom. Everything's ready.
Last night, she wrote a friendly, excitable little program — Quentin — who uses the mic on Bow and Glimmer's phones to record their conversations and beam them straight into her earbuds. Quentin's like front row seats for her ears.
3:58 PM.
Entrapta takes a peek: Bow is leaning against his locker, checking his phone every ten seconds. When she sees Glimmer coming, she darts back inside the classroom and shuts the door behind her.
"Bow?"
"Uh, hey!"
Quentin's working perfectly. Earbuds in, head down, snack out. Entrapta crouches behind the door takes a bite of her granola bar. She's really obsessed with these ones: they're the perfect combination of chew and crunch. It's a good thing she had the forethought to buy twenty-five boxes of them.
"Okay, so, about those text messages you sent me —"
"You mean the one about the kitten getting stuck in the jar?"
"What? No! That was sooo cuuute, the way he tried to wiggle his butt out ... No! Hey! Don't distract me. I'm talking about —" he says it seriously, like it's in capital letters — "The Kiss."
Glimmer's voice drops to a whisper. "I thought we all agreed never to talk about the kiss!"
"Then why'd you bring it up?"
"I didn't! You're bringing it up!"
"Glimmer, come on." There's a pause. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing! I'm — what do you mean, what's going on? Nothing's going on. What would make you think that?" Glimmer's voice sounds weird. That's interesting. It's kind of like she's screaming, but also being strangled at the same time, and she's talking really fast.
"Your weird texts!" Bow says. "And how you've been acting so — weird — lately."
"I'm not being weird. I'm fine."
"You are being kinda weird." Bow sounds sad, now. That emotion, Entrapta can recognize no problem. It's 101-level.
"You never hug me good morning anymore," Bow says, "and you get all quiet randomly — don't think I can't tell — and you didn't come to Perfuma's picnic last weekend, even though I know you weren't doing anything all day except watching Steven Universe reruns!"
There's a silence.
Then Glimmer says, so quiet that Entrapta almost can't make out the words: "I didn't think you wanted me there."
"Why wouldn't I want you there? I always want you to go to everything I go to."
Another silence.
"Even things with Perfuma?"
"Of course things with Perfuma. Everything! Okay, look, is this about Perfuma? Or is it about you wanting to kiss me? And do you really think I'm prettier than Adora?"
"I don't want to kiss you!" Glimmer practically yells. Entrapta makes a face and clicks down the volume. "Where are you getting this crap from?!"
"It's, I don't know, it's weird." Glimmer's voice returns to normal range. She doesn't say anything for a long time, then she says, all at once and in a rush: "I miss cuddling with you at sleepovers. And I still want to spend all my time with you. And when I asked the internet they said it sounded like I loved you and I should just ask you out, and I do love you, but that would be ugh, so, so wrong, if we were going out, no offense, but then I keep thinking you're going to ask Perfuma out and I get so upset I cry!" She wails this last bit, and it sounds like she really is going to cry.
There's a muffled sound, and no talking for a full minute.
When Entrapta cracks open the door a sliver and peers out, she figures out why: they're hugging. Huh. Weren't they just fighting? This is what the film critics refers to as "catharsis," isn't it.
"You're allowed to be upset," Bow says. He's still hugging Glimmer, her face pressed to his chest, his face pressed to the top of her head.
"Not really," Glimmer says. "I'm not allowed to be jealous. It's not like I'm your girlfriend."
"You're allowed to feel whatever you want," Bow says. "Whenever you want. But you shouldn't be jealous, 'cause that makes no sense, 'cause I love you and you're my best friend in the world! Well, Adora too. Remember what the three of us promised? When we grow up we're all going to buy a house and live together forever. So it doesn't matter who I ask out."
Glimmer sniffles. "I remember, I just didn't know if you still wanted to."
"I'll always want to."
Oh God, now they're both crying.
"I don't want to kiss you, Bow," Glimmer says, voice all choked up with tears.
"I don't want to kiss you, too, Glimmer," he says, crying into her hair.
*
Okay, well, it looks like she needs to do a lot more research, because Entrapta couldn't parse any of that.
*
On Friday night, instead of sleeping, Entrapta sits at her desk and finishes coding an AI program named Loyola who can analyze vocal patterns, fluctuations, and tics in order to determine probable attraction levels between two humans.
Once Loyola's born, Entrapta feeds her data from confirmed couples (the leads in rom-com movies) and confirmed not-couples (everyone else in rom-com movies: siblings, family, and teachers, plus a week's worth of conversations between Bow and Glimmer, since she never bothered to stop recording them). That should cover it, for the training. Then she hooks Loyola up to Quentin, her mic-tapping program.
Now she has an AI friend who can tell her who likes who, and how much, with 97% accuracy. And just in time, too, because Frosta's having a party at her house this weekend, which will be an ideal place to gather a lot of data while sitting still and eating snacks.
Entrapta can't wait to test her next hypothesis.
*
Loyola doesn't work at all: that's what she learns at Frosta's.
No one cares that Entrapta's carrying her tablet around the party, from the chips table to the pounding speakers to the sofa in front of the TV (where she keeps checking Loyola's outputs as she dominates everyone in Super Smash Bros.). Her friends are used to her toting around far weirder stuff than her tablet — when she was obsessed with atmospheric pollution readings, her bot Evelyn took up an entire backpack. For three weeks, she walked around school carrying one backpack on her back and a second backpack on her front.
Beep, Loyola says. Entrapta likes to program her AI friends to say "beep" in an ironic manner. Attention, Entrapta. Analysis complete.
"Scorpia!" Entrapta says. Her voice goes high and flat, like it always does when she's excited. "I got my first reading, wanna see?"
Loyola says:
SCORPIA --> CATRA [78%]
"Hey," Scorpia says nervously, "what does that arrow mean? What's this program for, again?"
"Aww. It means it didn't work."
"Why's it say my name? And Catra's?"
"Loyola thinks that you're 92% in love with Catra," Entrapta says absently. She's already got Loyola's source code pulled up, checking for errors. Well, it looks like the entire plan's flawed, or the initial data set, or something; she'll have to start from scratch. "Which is obviously wrong. So now none of the data she outputs can be trusted."
Scorpia's eyes go wide. "Um, yeah!" she says, taking a huge swallow of her drink, "it's obviously — you obviously — totally messed that one up, Entrapta! Too bad, huh? Better scrap the whole thing."
Entrapta sighs. She's not scrapping Loyola. If she can make her work, Loyla will be an incredibly useful research tool. But she'll need a brand new data set, at the very least. Well, she can probably get started on collecting data right here.
"Okay, I'm moving on to Plan B." Entrapta grins up at Scorpia. "Truth or Dare. You have to help me convince everyone."
*
No one actually wants to play Truth or Dare —
("Oh my god, no thank you, that's so junior high," Mermista says.)
— but everyone ends up playing Truth or Dare anyway, because Entrapta is extremely persistent and promises to do a lot of peoples' Chem homework.
Once she's wrangled all of her friends into a grumbling circle on the floor, she sits down in the middle, crosses her legs happily, and says, "Adora. Truth or Dare."
"... Truth, I guess?"
"Truth: What's a threesome?"
Perfuma giggles, scandalized. "Entrapta!"
"Don't tell her," Catra hisses.
"Tell me."
"That's not really how you play Truth or Dare," Scorpia cuts in, but she's grinning, so Entrapta figures she's actually on Entrapta's side, not Catra's.
"The rules are you have to answer the question truthfully. I asked her a question. Now she has to answer it. Truthfully."
"No one's going to answer that question," says Frosta flatly.
"Fine," Entrapta says, turning back to Adora. Good: this is all going according to plan. Next step. "Then I change my question."
"Sure," says Adora. She sounds relieved. She probably won't be for long.
Entrapta says, "Dare: Kiss Bow."
"*What?!" say several people at once, at extremely loud volumes.
"Um," Adora says. A blush rises to her cheeks. "Really? Do I have to?"
"Kiss Bow."
"Can we ... not?" says Bow, edging away from Adora. "It's kind of just, like ... you know ... been there, done that, really weird, not gonna do it ever again ..."
"Well, you don't have to say it like that," Adora mutters.
"Hey!" Bow protests, "you can't be mad at me for saying it! You and Glimmer both said the same thing."
Catra leans forward, right up in Adora's personal space — that's something to note down in her Catra-and-Adora file — and growls, "Been there, done that? What's he talking about, Adora?"
"It was a long time ago!" says Adora.
"And it was awkward for all three of us," Glimmer adds.
"All three of you?" Catra springs to her feet and gets up, ignoring Adora's grab at her wrist. "Eff this, I'm out of here." The door to the balcony slams behind her.
"Crap," Adora says, into the silence.
*
Entrapta makes them play Truth or Dare for another forty-five minutes, because she wants to gather more data for Loyola, and they promised.
Glimmer ends up prank calling her mom, Mermista grudgingly admits to having a crush on this infuriating pretty boy who goes to another school, and everyone gets to hear the story of Spinnerella and Netossa's first kiss — but mostly Bow just takes the opportunity to hijack the game for his own purposes.
Every time it's Bow's turn and someone picks Truth, he asks them, "Do you think I'm prettier than Adora?" If they pick Dare, he dares them to pick truth, and then asks them, "Do you think I'm prettier than Adora?"
By the end of the game, he's managed to ask everyone. The results are as follows:
- Spinnerella: "No."
- Netossa: "No."
- Glimmer: "Bow, why do you keep asking me that?"
- Frosta: "No."
- Perfuma: "Yes! Sorry, Adora, you know I love you too!"
- Mermista: "There's no way I'm getting involved in this."
- Adora: "Yeah, you definitely are, Bow!"
- Scorpia: "Well, it's hard to pick, you're both so pretty."
- Entrapta: "Okay."
- Catra: "No way in hell."
As the group's breaking up, wandering off to get snacks or pick up game controllers, Entrapta says to Scorpia, "That went great! Loyola got a lot of data."
"Yeah," Scorpia says, but she sounds distracted.
Entrapta looks where Scorpia's looking: at Adora, still sitting on the floor alone, knees pulled up to her chest. She's staring out the window at the balcony. She has been for most of the game, actually.
Oh. Catra's still out there — maybe Entrapta should ask Scorpia to go over there and cheer her up?
"Hey," Scorpia says. She bends down to put a hand on Adora's shoulder. "Maybe you should go talk to her."
"Yeah." Adora nods, then nods again. "Yeah, I think I will."
Scorpia sighs as Adora opens the door to the balcony, and Entrapta wants to ask her if somebody did something wrong — like, if Entrapta did something wrong; she always does something wrong at parties — but it'll have to wait, because right now she has to go lock herself in the bathroom with her program Quentin so that he can tap Catra and Adora's phones.
*
"Hey."
"Hey, Adora."
There's a long silence, long enough for Entrapta to set out all the food she got from the snack table out in nice little bowls on the bathroom counter.
"It was a long time ago," Adora says finally.
"Uh-huh."
"Way before you and me —"
"Yeah." Catra sighs, then says, "I mean, I figured that. And it's not like I don't believe you. It just made me feel kinda bad to hear it."
"I know!" Adora says, and then, all fast and in a rush: "I'm so sorry I never told you — we all said we wouldn't tell — but it didn't mean anything. Honestly. Bow was just moping that he'd never been kissed before, so Glimmer said we'd kiss him, and it was totally awkward, and we freaked out and hugged and promised never to try and date each other."
Catra makes a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "Wow. Sounds like the usual idiocy from the rainbows-and-unicorns squad."
Adora laughs, too. "Yup."
There's another silence, during which Entrapta finishes up eating the last two Fuzzy Peaches and moves on to her salt and vinegar chips, and checks in on Loyola, who is processing her new data.
"So, like — did you all try to kiss at the same time? How does that work? Because I can totally imagine Bow coming up with a great plan like that."
"Oh, God," Adora says, "don't make me re-live it."
"Hah. Sorry," Catra says. "And, uh ... sorry I've been kind of a dick lately."
"Apology accepted."
"You're not supposed to agree so fast! You're supposed to say, no, Catra, you haven't been a dick at all!"
"But you kind of have been."
"Yeah."
Another silence. The salt and vinegar chips are all gone. Entrapta hopes she doesn't run out of snacks before Adora and Catra run out of things to talk about.
"It's just," Catra says, "the whole cheer team thing."
"Catra," Adora says softly, "we talked about this like five times. You and I are the same as always! I love —" she pauses for a long time. "I love soccer. I'll always love soccer. It's just that I have fun at cheer practice, too. You get that."
"I know, I know," Catra says. "I'm just a jealous bitch."
"You're my jealous bitch."
Weird, Entrapta thinks: that seems like kind of a mean thing to say in such a happy voice.
"I really, really love soccer," Adora adds.
"Maybe you should remind me more often," Catra says.
"Want me to remind you right now?"
Catra laughs. "Kinda."
And then there's a strange, wet sound — and then —
Beep, says Loyola. Attention, Entrapta. Analysis complete.
ADORA --> CATRA [100%]
CATRA --> ADORA [100%]
*
The results of all the experiments are as follows:
- Adora, Bow, and Glimmer don't want to kiss each other,
- Loyola is broken, completely broken,
- Scorpia isn't 78% in love with Catra,
- Adora isn't 100% in love with Catra,
- Catra isn't 100% in love with Adora,
- Adora loves soccer,
- only 2 out of 10 people think Bow is prettier than Adora,
- and Entrapta has to do four peoples' Chem labs by third period on Monday.
This is not useful data, and it hasn't really helped Entrapta figure out anything about anything. She still doesn't understand why everyone lied in that rom-com, and she thought she understood her friends, but now she's not so sure. Humans don't make any sense.
Oh, well.
Joke's on them: Entrapta totally knows what a threesome is. She just likes to see everyone squirm when she asks. It's not like she can't just Google it — come on.