"Siren Cove, born and bred," she says. Mira tugs her hair into something like behavior with her hands and puts it back out of habit: her hair goes frizzy, and even if she goes to bed in two minutes she'd rather it dry straight-ish. "Well, not bred. In any sense of the word. That's weird. But yeah, all my life."

"That must have been a hell of a trip. Were you two in touch?"