2019-06-28 - Fork Off

Saturday means deadlines at the GHG, which means, of course, that Kevin is at his desk, leaning back in his chair, staring at a blank page. Granted, he's already got one version of his article mostly ready, but he's still staring at a blank page on his laptop. Lacing his fingers together, he curls them behind his head, lifting the loose t-shirt he wears up across his shoulders, stretching the 'I Paused My Game to Be Here' emblazoned in classic Nintendo font across his chest. "Eugh..." he grunt-groans toward the ceiling. "Deadlines can bite my shiny metal butt." He probably doesn't have a shiny metal butt.

"Are you wearing your metal under-roos again?" Jessica deadpans from her desk as she types up her own article. "Or did you finally take that steroid that turns you into Colossus?" She is not a nerd. No way! A sip of her beverage before she spits it out again. "Why do I forget my tea until it is frozen?" Now she's going to have to have coffee. She is dressed in jeans and t-shirt (it's summer...isn't it?). Her t-shirt has 'Fake News says I'm 40, Alternative Facts say I'm 25' written on it.

Late on a Saturday night finds Harper obtaining a Guest badge from the security guard she now calls 'Papa John'. She leaves him a Snickers and one of her engaging smiles, and heads up to the bull-pen to see her old (well, she's not that old) friend, Jessica. Presumably in order to obtain said guest badge, the guard would have had to have called Jessica to clear Harper for a pass at these hours. Whether or not the guard the librarian brings gifts to each visit actually calls is up to Jessica is up to him. Or to any arrangements Jessica's made with him. He'd know if Jessica wasn't there because of all the late night signing-out a person has to do when working late at the Gazette.

When Harper exits the elevator and makes the long journey from there to the bullpen at the end where Jessica's and Kevin's desks are situated, she's humming. It's a bit off-key. And it's loud enough that anyone who knows Beethoven's 6th would be able to hear it from her inefficient earbuds. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRg0K5rgXog ) The librarian is still dressed from work, as she often is when she visits her best friend from high school. And yes, that does include the pre-requisite cardigan. (outfit, not pb: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/493073859203616530/ ) On a Saturday, you ask? On a Saturday when there's been an age 10-18 Read-In, yes. On that Saturday.

The leather satchel that accompanies her to and from work each day is draped diagonally across her body to rest against one hip, and in her hands she is carrying two sizable carry-out bags. She meanders past the point of entry to the bull-pen where she'd easily access Jessica's and Kevin's desk work area; she stops about six paces later, simply walking backward until she's at the right spot. A curving smile tips those lips upward and brown eyes sparkle as she stops humming and pulls one bud from her right ear. "Jess-Flicka. You're /here/." As if Jessica wouldn't be there, with her friend sporting a Guest pass. "I brought you some ..." She stops short. It's a Kevin. Wild, and in his purported habitat. Harper's sharp brown gaze flickers from Kevin to Jessica and repeats the same thing twice more. "Bad time?" she finally asks.

"Okay," Kevin leans even further back in his chair to look upside-down at Jessica, "First, Colossus is awesome. And I don't take steroids, they shrink your balls and give you backne." How's that for a charming introduction? An unfamiliar voice from the door to the small pullpen causes him to flail in his chair, immediately losing his balance and just barely catching onto the underside of the desk with one foot. "Woah." Looking back to the door, he blinks at Harper, "Um, hi." Pulling himself forward to get all the wheels of his chair on the ground again, he straightens his glasses and t-shirt, "Friend of yours, Jessica?" He gives a little half-wave, half-salute and immediately grimaces at himself, "Hi, I'm Kevin. Walters. Kevin Walters." James Bond he is not. "I mean, it's bad because we print tonight, but..."

Harper sets down both bags on Jessica's desk, unable to drag her brown eyes from the not-quite-disaster that is Kevin. "Jess, I've got good news and bad news. You choose..." She then simply walks over to Kevin -- after his introduction which follows righting himself in his chair-- and offers her hand as if for a shake. "I'm Harper Price. And I think you were a year ahead of us in school, Kevin Walters." The 'us' would be herself and Jessica. "Smart girls don't forget the geeks: they always turn out to be the richest. Or the hottest. Which are you?" She actually smiles at the man, hand still outstretched, the glimmer of teasing from her golden-brown eyes visible for her best friend to rate on a scale of scathing to sarcastic. Who knows about the Russian judge. More than one thing in the bags on Jessica's desk smells delicious.

"Backne? Ewww...thanks for sharing. Guys always think their balls are bigger than they are, shrinking them would be the least of their problems." Is this usual talk in the bullpen? Nope, it's usually far worse. Thankfully, sanity has arrived in the form of Harper. "Hey, Harpo" Jessica grins to her friend. "What do you have for us tonight?" Jessica grins, peering at the bags. A shake of her head as she jerks a thumb at Kevin. "Ignore him, it's not a bad time. Harper and I bonded at the eternal hell known as high school. You don't remember her? We were in the same year. She hung out at the library a lot. Come on, how could you forget that beautiful face? Bad news first, Harpo. It's probably fake."

"I don't have backne," Kevin insists, looking over his shoulder to Jessica, then shakes his head, "Oh, yeah. Right, Harper, hey, hi." He stands up to take Harper's hand, freezing a moment at the question and then shaking her hand briefly, "Well, um, I'm not rich, so..." The grin he flashes is bright and boyish. "I've gotta admit I didn't hit the library that often. More the computer room or the newspaper. No patents before I was twenty, sorry." Dropping back into his seat, he wheels around a little so that he can look to both women at once, "I probably should have spent more time in the library or, you know, anywhere else where there were people."

Harper's laughter is a brief, delighted sound that touches at her throat and is gone before it can be registered firmly as such. Her hand is neither a delicate lily, nor is it a tight grip. Just a casual shake and she steps back. Though there's no way she's letting him off the hook for that answer. "I won't hold it against you, Kevin," Harper promises and traces an x over her heart before she pivots and heads over to drag a free, squeaky chair from some reporter's desk who had his story in a few hours previous. She pulls her satchel over her head and drops it with a heavy thunk on the other side of Jessica's desk, leaving Jessica (and her desk) between herself and Kevin as she sinks into the springy, squeaky seat with a little look of derision cast briefly down at the piece of old furniture. If it was a bad time for /Kevin/ for her to be there, she'll at least give him some space to work on his blank document. Her warm gaze turns to Jessica and she quells a grin for her friend. "The bad-- uh, 'fake' news is that I didn't have enough hands to bring either fresh strawberry shakes /or/ some of that new apricot-darjeeling I promised." She says this, pulling the other earbud out and tugging her phone out to turn off the Beethoven. Both phone and buds are stuffed into the aforementioned satchel. She arches a brow. The good news...

It starts quiet at first, but then grows in intensity until someone is basically banging their fist against the front door of the newspaper's basement office in an increasing measure.

"Speaking of nerds who made money. Do any of you remember Christopher? His father owned some second hand car yards. Geeky." Jessica asks, leaving out the unsaid 'like us'. "He sold his company for an amount of money he won't dislose and came back here. Yeah, I know, weird he came back here, but he has. Interviewed him for an article." She points at her computer - since that is where the article is hidden away.

Jessica waves a dismissive hand at Kevin. "People are overrated. Especially in high school. Small cliques is the way to go. Like Harpo and I." She gasps in horror. "No shakes? Sheesh, you know that's a friend dumping offence, right? But I'll forgive you since whatever you did bring smells wonderful. And come sit next to me so Kevin can see you." The pounding noise can be heard but Security can take care of that. "Expecting anyone, Kevin?"

Despite Jessica's insistence, Harper remains where she is seated, not rising to her friend's bait about where to sit. "The good news is that I brought two behemoth Philly-Cheesesteak sandwiches and two fresh strawberry shortcakes. With extra whipped cream. You know, from that new patisserie?" Harper inflects the French too well to not have taken some in high school or college. To Kevin from the other side of Jessica's desk, Harper offers, "If you're hungry, Kevin -- I mean if it'd help with your word count or something, you can have my Cheesesteak. All I really wanted was the shortcake." She sounds quite serious about that. Back to Jessica. "How many words to go?" As if the count was all that mattered before the deadline. She leans forward to peer around at Jessica's monitor, the chair she's seated upon squeaking in protest, though not likely due to her weight. It's just a grumpy chair. It's done its time. Give it a break.

Kevin finger-guns at Harper as she crosses her heart, "I appreciate it." He groans at Harper's statement about not having shakes, "Awww. Dang it. I love strawberry." He starts a little at the pounding on the door, then sighs and gets up, "Christopher, Christopher... what year?" He hauls himself out of his chair, heading for the door, "People in high school were way overrated," he agrees. "And nope, not expecting anyone." Wait, there was strawberry shortcakes mentioned, and his eyes widen behind his glasses, "I won't take anyone's dessert, but if there's extra..." and he opens the door, "Totally after hours. What's up?"

Harper murmurs, tapping a fingertip to her lower lip, "Christopher ... god, I can't remember his last name. /He/ was on the hot-track." From geeky, that is. "He's the one who's super-rich from ... was he the one that did the video game stuff? Wait, you /interviewed/ /him/? No way. He was hot: tell me I'm right. Did he ask you out? Off the record, of course."

Let's not gloss over the faintly appalled look Kevin earns from Harper when he double finger-guns her. He didn't just do that. Nope. Harper's going to pretend it never happened. "I might be convinced to share. Or maybe Jessica's not feeling very peckish. It all depends." In regard to the shortcake. Then Kevin's gone to the door and Harper leans in and offers her friend a slow smile. "You should /totally/ be hitting that. Or Christopher. Or both at the same time. But, seriously, Jess. Choose a flavor." That's when Harper leans around and truly scans some of Jessica's article, pointing to a spot here, then there. "I like the way you worded that."

"Oh." The word is short, surprised, but then Magnolia Jones is smiling up at Kevin with a slight cock of her hip, arms crossed at her chest. "Sorry, I was supposed to pick up some stuff..." The syllable kind of tapers off before Magnolia points at the bespectacled news reporter. "Kevin, right?" She tilts her head slightly around him as she hears other voices, and then she gives Kevin a serious look over before she shrugs.

There's a pause, and Kevin blinks, looking behind him, "Wait, Christopher? He was your year. Nerd." The way he says 'nerd' is approving. He has shame about many things, but double-finger-guns is never one of them. Then he's looking to the woman behind the door, blinking and stepping back, "Some stuff?" He blinks again, reaching up to adjust his glasses, then frowns in confusion, "I recognize you. Um." Pulling the door open, he gestures for Magnolia to come in, "What is it you're looking for?" There's something a little stilted in his tone as he drags through his memory, "Jessica Flores, Harper Price," And then his eyes widen slightly, "Magnolia. Um... James?" His shoulders roll a little uncomfortably as his memory sinks in.

Jessica rolls her eyes at Harper's hitting insistence. "Will you stop that" she whispers in reply before eyeing Kevin walking away. "But, seriously, that is a fine ass. America's ass, you know what I'm saying." A blush at how bad Harper makes her talk before turning to the other guy in their conversation. "You remember the one time I went to a school dance? Christopher remembered what I was wearing. Can you believe that? I was there for like, ten minutes." She clears her throat. "And, um, yes, I think he asked me out." Thankfully, the talk turns to work ad she nods at the words that Harper indicates. "Thanks, you don't think they're too fancy?" Cheesecake for the win. "Christopher was in the same year as Harper and I" she calls out to Kevin as he answers the door. "Who is it?"

Jessica waves as she is introduced to Magnolia. "Hey. Nice to meet you."

"Jones," Magnolia corrects without missing a beat. In fact, it's almost an offhanded remark as she steps inside while she shifts her messenger bag off her hip. "We used to hangout at Tobin's house." Then she is turning to look back up at Kevin with a flash of that pristine, bright smile. "Why don't you just point me to Lincoln's desk and I'll get what I need. He has a folder with my name on it." Then she tilts to one side before she offers the two women a lazy flick of a wave.

Harper seems to enjoy Jessica's eye-rolling. "No, I most certainly will not." Stop that, that is. And then America's ass is mentioned and Harper's laughter spills out into the bullpen. "I didn't notice. I'm a proper /lady/," she says with a hint of a British accent inflected into the words. School dances. In particular the /one/ that Jessica actually attended. In The Dress. Harper remembers it, too. "He remembered that?" Harper murmurs low. "And you're surprised? Well, I say no /wonder/ the man is a billionaire or whatever. He keeps track of Important Things." But then she hears of the actual asking-out and Harper's "Ha /ha/!" rings out again. "That's what I'm talking about, Jessi-mwah. When, where, how many times, I want all the deets before America's treasure saunters back over here and distracts you with that behind." Too fancy? The vernacular? "Well, it's no 'fecund', but it tips /my/ boat when you edge past two syllables." Who is it, indeed. If Magnolia hung with Tobin, then Harper and Magnolia know one another by name. But across the half-darkened room, Harper can't make out who is at the door either. "Sounds like a woman," she murmurs. "Does Kevin get help /editing/?" Then, "Eat something. It'll make me feel better."

If he could hear the librarian and his coworker, Kevin would undoubtedly be blushing. There might even be stammering. Instead, he nods to Magnolia, "Jones, right. And, uh, yeah. At Tobin's." He shifts a little, "Before Mark? After Mark? During Mark?" Okay, so the guy who gave him a swirly is higher in his memory than the pretty blonde he was dating then. He starts back through the bullpen, "Come on back." Heading down a couple of desks from his own, he tries the desk drawer and blinks, "Uh. Jessica? Does Lincoln usually lock his desk?" He gives another rattle at another drawer, then looks over to Magnolia again, shrugging a little helplessly. He... uh... hasn't noticed the folder on Lincoln's desk.

"We all lock our desks, Kevin" Jessica replies with a sigh before pointing at the bullpen noticeboard. "You didn't read the notice from a month ago? Their Serene Highness was worried that the cleaning crew were stealing our stories. If someone is still leaving their stuff out, then they're going to get their ass..." Another sigh as she sees the folder sitting there on Lincoln's desk. A shake of her head as she points to it. "That what you're after?"

"A lady?" Jessica can only stare at Harper. "Please, you don't remember what you did with those balloons a year ago at my place? Harpo, I still have that footage on my computer. And I will still use it to blackmail you when the time is right. I don't think he's a billionaire. Close though. And he asked me in passing. No set date. Want to come along?"

The mention of Mark has Magnolia stumped for a moment, and then she offers up casually, "Um. Before." She notices the folder, but this is only because she meandered after Kevin as if she was invited to do so. She gives Kevin a few more minutes of rifling around, and then she points at the folder casually. "That one." Then she glances toward the other two women and she offers them a casual smile before she glances back toward Kevin expectantly.

When Magnolia is led into view, Harper actually sits up on the edge of her squeaky chair and offers a wave. "Magnolia Jones. It's been too long. You look great." Harper's smile is warm and reminiscent of times long past. But Magnolia isn't here to chat with her, so she bites her tongue and settles back into her chair, watching Magnolia and Kevin search for the folder that is RIGHT THERE. She crosses one leg smoothly over the other, then reaches for the lighter of the two bags she brought, pulling out a clear plastic container containing a significant portion of strawberry shortcake with none of that rubbery twinkie type cake. Oh no. This is fresh made with lots of sliced, Mount Hood strawberries: the extra sweet, only-get-them-for-a-month-each-year variety. Then All The Whipped Cream. She doesn't quite pop it open yet. "You a reporter too, Mags?" The words are friendly and welcoming. Her gaze flickers to Kevin, then back to Magnolia, her brows uptipping ever so slightly as if in unspoken query.

Kevin gives Jessica a look like she's crazy, "You keep anything valuable in your desk? Stories, anything?" He shakes his head, "Anyone could have a duplicate key to these desks. I just take the important stuff home." There's plenty on top of Kevin's desk, so he clearly leaves some things there. "Besides, if someone wanted in, they could break in. Cheaper for everyone involved to leave it unlocked." That was serious. "And Their Serene Highness can suck it." That's not serious at all, but instead accompanied by a bright grin. One which fades entirely as Jessica and Magnolia point out the obvious folder on top of the desk. "Oh. Uh, yeah. That one's probably exactly what you want." He glances at the folder, spots Magnolia's name on it, and passes it over, "There you go." Glancing over to Harper, he nods at the question, "Anything good? I mean, Lincoln occasionally gets a good lead. I swear I wouldn't snake it." Flashing a grin from Magnolia over to Harper, he crosses a finger over his heart.

"Do not /make/ me break and enter to destroy your personal computer, Jess-innamon." Harper's threat sounds half-believable. The invitation to come along on a date has Harper turning to give her best friend a look of absolute dismay. "Only if I get the good end." The words don't match the Look.

Jessica keeps a smile on her face as Kevin's paranoia surfaces so wonderfully. "They could break into your place too" she notes...delicately. "The important stuff is up here..." A tap of the side of her head. Even she won't put anything important on the Cloud.

A curious look for Harper. "Which end is the good end?" Jessica asks, intrigued to hear the answer before leaning in to whisper to her friend. "Should I know who Magnolia is? Did she go to school with us?" Strawberries! "And when are you coming down to the Houseboat? Kevin, you want to come and have dinner with Harper and I soon?"

That's when she recognizes Harper, and she actually blossoms into an easy smile. "Hi Harper. Thought the name was familiar, but I'm waiting for Kevin to give me my folder." Then Magnolia holds out her hand expectantly until she is in possession of it. She gives it a look over before she slips it into her bag. "I'm not allowed to comment on an on-going investigation," says the P.I. Then she glances over toward the other two; she starts to take a step backward. But then Harper's question stalls her. "No. Private investigator." She would have been a cop, but her and Byron at least share a similar tragedy. Then she continues her backward steps.

Harper looks back to Magnolia and Kevin /just/ in time to see the mimicked little heart-cross that Kevin tosses her way while he's speaking to Magnolia. Her lips quaver as she quells a grin, brown eyes sparkling. "Fine, Mr. No-Keys, you can have some of my shortcake." She means the dessert. Of course she does. Because strawberries. Extra special strawberries.

"If you haven't learned which end is the good end, then that's all the better for me, JessJess. Just one of life's little lessons." Harper nods to Jessica, including Magnolia in the words and look. "Same year, unless my memory is faulty for lack of strawberries." She gestures a plastic fork between the women. "Magnolia, Jessica. Jessica, Magnolia." Harper leaves Jessica's invitation alone where it hangs. Magnolia's smile warms the sparkle in Harper's brown eyes. "Give him time. The blood has /so/ many places to go before it reaches his brain." Clearly Magnolia's invited to play. "PI, that's crazy-keen. We should have tea sometime and catch up. I could regale you with library administrivia and you can bore me with breath-taking PI stories. Names redacted, of course." Byron is a mutual friend, too. Ah, high school. Harper opens her mouth to try to say something to keep Magnolia present longer, but then thinks better of being pushy and pops open the plastic to scoop up a forkful of strawberries and whipped cream. This is shoved into her mouth and causes a quiet sound of pleasure to roll in her throat. "So good."

"Sure, they could break into my place. But they aren't getting into any of my stuff." Kevin sounds both confident about this and proud. He looks over to Jessica and mouths, 'cop?' silently when Magnolia goes all 'no talk-y' on him, only for her to clarify, and he laughs, shaking his head and tsking softly, "Pretty sure it's just cops who can't talk about ongoing investigations. Unless... is there a PI Code? That would be pretty cool, actually." He blinks in guileless surprise over to Jessica at the invitation, his eyebrows lifting behind his glasses, "I dunno. Do I get the good end?" There's strawberry shortcake being offered, and he steps over to take the carton, "You're a lifesafer, Harpsichord." Yup, she's got a nickname already. Or at least one he's trying out, "And hey!" He sounds a mixture of pleased, embarrassed, and mock-offended as he protests, "The blood's almost always at my brain."

"He's right, Harpo. The blood is almost always in his brain...and we know where guys have their brains." Jessica winks to Harper, holding up her hand for high fives. She looks over to Magnolia and nods slowly. "Oh, yeah, I think I remember you. Nice to see you again. A P.I.? Nice. Maybe we could help each other out?" A nod for Kevin. "Yes, there is a P.I. code, like with lawyers and doctors...and journalists." That last emphasised for her co-worker. "If Lincoln let you down with the info, Magnolia, give me a call." There are strawberries and shortcake to eat, and Jessica tucks right in. "You brought tea, Harpo?"

"There's always a PI code," Magnolia offers up before she heel-pivots and starts to head back to the door. She offers a wave to those still in the bullpen. "Will do," she says to Jessica. "Have a nice night," she calls simply before she goes to make her departure, leaving the three to... whatever it is they are doing.

To Kevin's certainty that no one's getting into his stuff, Harper murmurs, "I'm imagining a house full of little-black-boxes." Kevin's stream-of-consciousness is so like her best friend's that Harper just shakes her head for a moment before diving in for another bite of berries-n-cream. Another little sound. Does Kevin get the good end? That image breaks down a bit in Harper's imagination. "You dating a billionaire, too, Walters?" she inquires. Because she hasn't contemplated which /third/ would be the best third. "Do you play well with others?" Harper's amusement twinkles behind her eyes but then he grabs fork AND carton from her and she simply utters a little sigh and sinks back in the squeaky chair with a protesting sound from its archaic springs. He uses the same phrase for her that Jessica used on her last visit and she asks, regarding being a lifesaver, "Cherry or pina colada?" Then Harper's laughing almost inaudibly at the comment about where his blood is. The nickname? That earns Kevin a surveying look: has he earned the right to toy with her name the way Jessica has? Undetermined.

Jessica's wink has Harper rubbing a hand over her face. "Uncle!" she protests in amusement. Regarding tea, Harper repeats slowly, "No. That was the bad news, remember, Jess? You've been working too long today. You need to cut back. Work faster. Get home. Do things in the real world. Go shopping for a new dress." Because -date-. "Night, Mags. Be safe." And Harper means that in all the seriousness that the conversation thus far has been missing.

Kevin throws up his hands at Magnolia's response, "Laaaaame." Pause, "And very, very cool." He watches her until she gets to the door, nodding as it closes behind her. Then he turns back to Harper and Jessica, collecting a bite of strawberry shortcake and chewing it with every sign of pleasure. The requested high-five causes him to roll his eyes and snort with closed-mouthed laughter, handing back the carton holding the dessert and then settling back to lean against the front of his desk, crossing his arms over the printed slogan on his t-shirt. Sadly, the fork is still clasped in his right hand. "Nope, not dating a billionaire. And I have no idea about whether or not I play with others." There's a pause as he considers the possible ramifications of that statement, and he blushes brightly, "Uhhh... I mean. I know that I play well with others, but I don't know if I play well with others. I mean, you mean... gah!"

"See, Harpo, Kevin plays with others just as well as he plays with himself" Jessica deadpans to her friend. A grin to the man in question before she upnods towards the door. "I think someone would like to get to know the P.I. a little better" she teases before looking back to Harper. "I think he likes blondes. What a shame" she playfully sighs. "Wait, who is dating a billionaire? I am not dating anyone, Harpo." That she is chewing on shortcake and spraying it everywhere may lessen the impact of her protests.

"And none of you have answered me about a night at the houseboat? I better explain for Kevin's benefit. I cook a meal, Harpo brings dessert and her cheery manner. Then we watch movies while gossiping and drinking. It's an awesome time. We could see how well you play with others, Kevin. And I told you it was fake bad news, Harpo." The traditional tongue poking at her friend follows. "I guess I can try the office coffee."

Harper retakes the container of dessert-y goodness sans fork. A bemused look to Kevin. He chooses neither flavor of lifesaver, so /that/ game is over. Jessica plays at who and what Kevin does and does not play with and Harper just shakes her head and dips a fingertip into the whipped cream and slips it into her mouth, triumphant. No fork necessary. "I think Mags might enjoy that," Harper says slowly, "--though I haven't seen her in, like, forever. So who knows?" Blondes, huh. SOL here. "Mags is blonde," she offers up, as if that weren't inherently apparent, not more than a few minutes prior. "You'd /better/ be, at /least/ once. And by once, I mean like, five or six times at least." Harper gives Jess a significant look at that numbering system, dates notwithstanding.

As for the houseboat, "I'm there. But then, you didn't wonder about me, didja?" She flickers a dubious look over at Kevin. "Do you gossip?" Dubious! Regarding office coffee, she murmurs balefully, "I'm so sorry." But now it's time to watch Kevin stumble alllllll over himself about playtime and what games he has and has not learned. Harper has to use the hand she dipped in the whipped cream to cover her mouth, after cleaning that finger off, of course. Her shoulders shake silently. Finally, she regains enough composure to pull the hand away and murmurs oh-so solemnly, "Of course you know that, Kevin."

Kevin groans at Jessica's version of his statement, scrunching up his face as he tries to come up with a way it isn't horribly bad. Instead, he freezes as she suggests he wants a piece of the PI, blinking, "Uh? Huh? Naw, just making sure she wasn't snooping around on her way out." There's a pause, "Her boyfriend used to give me swirlies in high school." There's no joy in that admission, but at least it calms the blushes, at least a little. The silent laughter doesn't really help, but it doesn't really hurt either, because he ends up laughing along with Harper, pushing his glasses up on his brow and rubbing at his face with his non-fork-wielding hand. "I don't think I have a type. I mean, blondes, brunettes, redheads, whatever." He finally gets a little control, pulls his glasses down onto the bridge of his nose again, and realizes he's still holding a fork. Blinking a little, he offers it back out to Harper, then looks back to Jessica, "Um, that sounds great. Meal, dessert, movies, talking, drinking. And, you know, I'm not a gossip columnist," except for that desperate couple of months in Seattle, "but I'm a journalist, I usually know at least some of the good stuff. And some of it I can even talk about."

Harper picks a couple strawberries out of the dessert, again with fingertips and pop them in her mouth while Kevin loses at that challenge from his lovely coworker. Then he's explaining about the watching-after. She simply listens and nibbles at strawberries. "Boo is for Booollies," Harper murmurs, her tone quiet. Then there's Kevin-laughter, which is fun to enjoy, and a description of just about any human being on the face of the earth, at least those with hair, as his 'type'. "Way to be specific, Walters." She sounds so disappointed. Instead of taking the fork, Harper shoves the dessert back into the journalist's hands. "It's all yours, Kevin." Harper nods thoughtfully, expectations high on what Kevin may actually know. "We'll work on the rest." Of what he can talk about. And there's no doubt they will. At least not in Harper's mind. She grabs a napkin from one of the bags and wipes her fingers and lips with it before tossing it in the trash. "I should let you two hit the deadline before the actual deadline," she murmurs, grabs her satchel and pushes to her feet. "Thanks for the company." To Kevin, then lingeringly to her best friend. Lots of unanswered questions there. "Call me, sugar-lips." And she's pulling the satchel strap over her head and across her body. It's a wonder she doesn't collapse under what looks like a very heavy bag.

"I know Magnolia is blonde, Harpo. Didn't you see the way Kevin was watching her leave? Though he wasn't looking at her hair" Jessica points out with a smirk. And then he ruins it all by saying he was watching to see if she stole anything. Jessica sighs. "Kevin, that's not how we do gossip. We're going to have to teach you a few things on the houseboat. Five or six times apparently."

And Magnolia having a boyfriend is another downer. "Does she still have a boyfriend?" Jessica asks nonchalantly. "You should find out, Kevin." Though as he reels off the types he likes, she does feel the need to say, "Please don't say 'goats'." A look to Harper. "Do you think 'whatever' includes goats? Oh, you're leaving? Okay, I'll give you a call when the Night on Hot Houseboat is happening. Take care of yourself. Kevin...back to work. Dream of Magnolia when you get home." None of that deskbound shenanigans Harper and Jessica are convinced he is up to.

Kevin starts to shrug helplessly at Harper's disappointed comment, and then he's being handed a carton of strawberry shortcake. He manages to collect it without dropping it, "I like wom -- what, I wasn't looking at her ass! I was making sure she didn't take anything." He looks between Jessica and Harper, apparently at a loss for words -- not an easy thing to do to C. Kevin Walters. He gives a little wave to Harper, "Night. Thanks for the dessert." He waits until she's headed out, then looks back to Jessica, "You're sugar-lips, right? I don't know that I need to be sugar-lips." Beat pause, "And I don't know if she's still dating Mark. He was a tool. Teeny tiny tool." Another beat pause, "I assume. And no, 'whatever' doesn't include goats." Dropping down into his chair -- the old desk chair gives a groan of protest as he does -- he sighs, sets the dessert aside so he can close the blank document and look back to the full one, and casts over his shoulder, "I'm not going to dream of Magnolia when I get home. Porn's free on the internet, remember?"