2019-07-15 - A Six Letter Word That Starts With "G"

Magnolia is back at the Gazette, but Kevin must be out to lunch. With that no-nonsense presence and a distinct 'supposed-to-be-here'-ness, she's ended up at his desk, flopped in his chair and lazily spinning around in it while chewing on the cap-end of a pen. She's got the Gazette turned to the crossword puzzle, and is thinking quite visibly with cinched brows and a half-frown on her lips. She doesn't even look up when someone approaches, or someone walks by. She's waiting, and it's so innocuous, it's almost a little stupid.

Kevin comes back from lunch with his nose in a book. It's the Zombie Survival Handbook. Look, Zombunnies are serious business, okay? He's so engrossed that although he threads his way through the bullpen, he doesn't spot Magnolia at his desk. In fact, he doesn't spot her until he's turned his back on the chair she's occupying and started to sit down. Only then, whether it's from something she says, or a sixth -- or even seventh -- sense, he startles, jolting back up with a, "Woah!" Trying to compose himself and smoothing down his 'National Pi Day' shirt with its 100+ places of pi listed around the crust of a pie on it, he tries to pass it off, "Oh, hey Magnolia. How's it going?"

Magnolia either doesn't register Kevin's surprise. She poises her pen at an empty spot on the crossword puzzle. "Hey. Kev. What's a six-letter word that starts with a 'G' and is 'slang for a peanut or a bespectacled reporter who has a vivid dream with a girl but doesn't call or text said girl despite buying her a, and let's be fair, pretty mediocre breakfast at some diner sometime after midnight?'" Now she looks up at him, squinting slightly. She takes in the t-shirt. She smirks. "Isn't it like, July? Pretty sure that pi is not 7.15."

"Goober," Kevin answers with... like... zero hesitation at all. He continues to smooth the t-shirt down, willing his hard to stop trying to thump through his ribs. "You shouldn't sneak up on a guy like that." Like sitting perfectly still at his desk, "That's some PI-fu right there." Looking down at his chest, he shrugs, "I figure Pi Day is a state of mind, a state of mind that should always be fed. Besides, what's the point of owning a shirt you can only wear one day a year?" He narrows his eyes behind his glasses, "Unless you've got an outfit for every day of the year? That seems pretty indulgent to me. Is this the next big Gazette scandal?" There's a little bitterness in the last question.

"Goober!" Magnolia jots down the answer. Then she looks back up at him with an arch of her dark golden brow. "All I had to say is that, that I was your girlfriend here to take you to lunch. But then you were gone, so they just me chill at your desk." She looks back down at the crossword puzzle. "I mean, some people do... but I just decide to not go with themed shirts so I don't look like a--" And she looks up pointedly at him. "--goober." Then she swings around in his chair and sets down the folded up paper and deposits the pen back in his pen cup. "Alright, cm'on, dude. I got something for you." She gives his Pi shirt a little tug before she heads off toward one of the tiny conference rooms that flank the bullpen.

"Wait... you just told people you were my girlfriend and they let you sit here without asking you any questions?" Kevin's eyes widen in disbelief and outrage, "What kind of reporters are these?" He looks to Jessica's desk, but it's empty, or else Magnolia probably would have gotten the third degree with that story. Maybe even the fourth. "And you can't skip themed shirts. Then what do you do on May the Fourth? Or Pi Day? Or Christmas? Or Saint Paddy's Day? Or Slay the Misbegotten 1% Who Oppress the Working Poor Day?" That's a thing. Or it will be, some day if Kevin has any say on it. But he's already following behind the tug, "If this is a make-out session, I'm down with that, but be warned that sometimes I cry when I'm really excited." He doesn't. And he flashes a grin to make it clear that he's joking, popping open the door and holding it for her before slipping in himself and letting the door close behind them.

Magnolia just stops mid-step and pivots slowly toward Kevin. She stares at him, one brow arched. "Yeah, okay... we're going to start with that." Then she's stepping into the conference room, not even giving him the benefit of an outcry at the idea that they might be making out. Only when the door closes does she turn to lean on the conference table and look at him. "Okay, first of all, when do you wear Christmas shirts besides at Christmas? And you really need to tighten up that name? You can't even make it acronym friendly. The SM1PWOWPD? That's worse than SHIELD. Get with it, Kevin." Then she sighs out a breath and swings around her messenger bag to dig out a file folder. "I need your investigative eye on some stuff, but--" And she makes sure the file folder is out of Kevin's reach as she lays down her caveat. "This is seriously a no-go for public record, you got me?"

Kevin is grinning broadly when she turns back to him and squares up. Totally innocent, nothing to see here. "I like wearing Christmas t-shirts in July. Or March. Or October. I like wearing them any time of the year. Christmas is awesome." Beat pause, "I mean besides being an entirely corporate-coopted 'holiday,'" he does air quotes, "just to sell more stuff that nobody needs. And don't worry, I just call it Eat the Rich Day. But Slay the Misbegotten 1% Who Oppress the Working Poor sounds more menacing." But there's a file folder there, and he perks up, starting to reach out, and then stopping. He frowns at the file, then up at her, "Strictly off-the-record. Got it. Are we talking not even background to build other evidence on? Like nothing even remotely connected should see the light of day or ever will because my Editor is an asshole? Or just nothing directly in the file makes a story?"

"You're so weird," is all Magnolia says about the t-shirts thing. But now they are inside the conference room, and she is giving him a serious look. She's about to say something, but then she stops to back-up this conversation a moment. "I'm not eating the rich. I'm not a cannibal." Then she resumes her conversation, having lost track twice now on the folder she's holding slightly aloft. Then she slowly lowers it, and steps to open the file on the table. "Alright, so... I'm on this case that has to do with this guy... Joseph Michaels III. He's got this deep family history of basically crazy suicides, and it all comes back to this land purchase." She spreads out the contents of the file-- there's some family history stuff, some photos, some screenshots from social media. She rifles through it until she gets to the info on the land. "Ol' Joseph Michaels, Sr. bought up this land to build a club, and then all this bad luck shit started happening... dead hookers, construction site accidents, on and on and on. Joseph Michaels Sr. kicks the bucket by hanging himself off the bridge, leaves it to Joseph Michaels, Jr., and everything keeps going to shit. Junior dies, leaves everything to his son. The land is still vacant."

Now she gets to where she's going with this, "I need to chase where Joseph Michaels III might have gone off, but I also need info on the land. I want to know everything you can possibly dig up on it." She crosses her arms at her chest, leaning against the table. "I need you to look into this for me, Kev."

"How about financially speaking? Or, theoretically, in a Mad Max-style post-apocalyptic wasteland..." Kevin isn't letting eating the rich go that easily. But with a little sigh, he settles in alongside her, looking over the information in the file. Using one knuckle, he nudges the files around. "So you've looked into Native American burial ground, right?" Looking over to her, he grins, "I mean, that's the most obvious thing right off the bat. Next up, corporation wants the land for some reason, and is putting hits out. The other thing would be..." he looks back over his shoulder, making sure that the conference room door is closed, "Well, it could be the whole Glimmer thing, right? You know about Dreams, you know about Glimmer too? Someone could be driving them crazy. Family grudge, really bad business deal, want to live on the land... something like that." He adjusts his glasses, rubbing at his nose as he looks over the files, "So you need the deal on the land to see if it tells you something about where Trey went, but you have to start work finding him now. Because you think he's in danger of committing suicide too."

"I'm not eating cash either." Magnolia doesn't even miss a beat. As he nudges her files around, she watches him more than she watches the files that he skims over. "It isn't a Native American burial ground." Well, it could be, but she loves being negative around Kevin. It makes her happy. But then he's mentioning the Glimmer and Dreams, and Magnolia shakes her head. "Oh, no... this is definitely connected to the Veil because we're in fucking Gray Harbor and the real stumper will be the day that some weird shit has nothing to do with the Veil." She then gives a little gesture, and a cool breeze ruffles through to give the papers on the table a shiver. "Yeah. I Glimmer." Then she rolls her eyes. "Which I hate. Who the fuck came up with calling this The Glimmer? Stephanie Meyer?" Vampires. Do. Not. Sparkle.

Then she sighs out a harder breath, and she gets down to business. Or she was about to, but then, "Trey?" Beat. "Oh. Three, right." Then she nods slowly as she straightens back up. "Yeah. I think he tried to get out of town away from the Veil, put some distance, but I think it's too late. I think he's been exposed to this enough that it's going to follow him." She looks over to Kevin. "So, while I'm playing Trey Hunter, I need someone to chase down information on the land. Maybe the Gazette has some info on who owned it before, if there has been any strange happenings on the land before Michaels bought it up for his club."

"Actually it was Walmart," Kevin supplies, "They wanted something to sell in the checkout lane to women who weren't edgy enough for real vampires. So they get glampires, and they sell like hotcakes, and they lower the education level all across the country, which benefits the Republic party, so... Twilight." Nodding as she goes on, he considers, "So Trey -- I'm not saying that whole name if I don't have to -- is on the run to get away from something Glimmer-y, so he leaves Gray Harbor. That tracks. It also tracks if he's running from something more mundane, right?" Tapping his knuckle against the table, he nods, "We've got records. That's not a problem." Casting a grin over to Magnolia, he adds, "So what do I get for spending hours in the records room?" Or checking the local servers for digitized copies over a lunch break.

Magnolia just kind of stares at Kevin with a blank, but still incredulous expression. "So... Twilight," she repeats. Then she shakes her head. "Both track, but this is Gray Harbor and there's plenty to back-up that this is about the Veil, or something related to it. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm definitely covering all the bases." But then she's getting asked that question, and his grin causes her eyes to narrow. She stares at him for a long moment, silence filling the space. "You can buy me dinner tomorrow night."

"So I should be terrified about getting anywhere near this land, and try to have nothing to actually do with it. Got it." Kevin shakes his head, "Because I don't know about you, daring private eye, but I've got no interest in getting anywhere near anything that involves Native American burial grounds or nasty scary Veil stuff." Turning around, he leans back against the table, crossing his arms, "Wait. So I do you a favor, and I get to buy you dinner? That doesn't sound like a very good deal to me. It sounds like you're claiming that your company is so good that I should do hours of work that will totally set off my hayfever and pay for your dinner?"

"Yes, but you're the protagonist in this story and I just gave you a big juicy story hook, and though you're going to do this cute song and dance about how you really aren't going to get involved, and you're not going to get close to it, you're going to look at this face," and she points at her face with both of her forefingers, smiling bright, sharp, and brief, before she continues, "and realize that I'm probably about to get in over my own head and you will feel bad if something happens to me after I came to you for help and you chickened out." Then she breathes out a sharp breath, and narrows her eyes at him. "My company is fucking great."

"Ooooh, nice buttering up." The pointing causes Kevin to laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm not saying no, I'm just saying that your negotiation skills are either really bad or really, really good. I mean, of course I'm going to do it because even though you're not going to be over your head in the slightest, I'm totally curious. I mean, not because I think it's going to be some Native American burial ground or some Veil thing -- even if this is Gray Harbor -- but because I'm curious how there's a corporation behind this. And I'm sure your company is great, but I'm just not sure it's hours of hay fever and paying for dinner great. You'll have to convince me."

"Fine, fine. I'll buy you dinner." Magnolia surrenders this with a slight discarding gesture of her hand. Then she sighs out a breath, and she shakes her head. "Look, if you're not actually interested in helping me, Kev, that's fine." She starts to sweep up her papers, beginning to tuck them back into the file. "I just could use some help."

Kevin laughs easily, "Dutch," he proposes, then winces, the laughter cutting off, "Um. Not Kev. Too many memories of high school." He holds his hands out before him, palms pointing toward one another from a couple of inches away, "Ke-vin. Whole thing." His brows draw together and he drops his hands to the tabletop again, leaning forward a little, "I'm happy to help. But why me, not Lincoln or one of your dad's friends?" The question sounds honest, just curiosity.

Magnolia wrinkles her nose briefly, but then she nods slowly. "Kevin." Then she takes in a breath at his question, and the usually casually flippant PI has lots some of her bluster. She narrows her eyes at him, thinking. Then she offers up after a moment, "Because Byron's involved, and because we had that Dream together, and so I figured maybe there was at least something there. So, if you want to help, okay... if not, I'll look elsewhere."

Kevin says, "How many times do I got to say that I'll help?" Kevin shrugs helplessly, "I'm pretty sure we're up to three by now." He pokes at his cheek with his tongue, thinking as he glances back over his shoulder to the files. "How's Byron involved? Is he thinking about buying the land?" There's a pause, and he grins, "Or is that part of the part that I don't get to hear because I'm too talkative and my editor might have to squash another story?""

"No." Magnolia's word is tight and straightforward. "No." But then her lips part to share more, but then she closes her mouth and shakes her head. "Yeah, I shouldn't tell you everything. Really. It might actually keep you safer if I keep some of my cards to my chest." Then she offers him up a bit more of a genuine smile that is rarely seen in that more dismissive expression. "So, look... you tell me where to pick you up and we can do dinner tomorrow night. I have a babysitter and everything already set up."

Watching the changes come over her features, Kevin nods slowly, then chuckles, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm good with staying safer. I'm always in favor of staying safer." The smile and the words that follow cause him to laugh, and he shakes his head, "You were that sure you'd get me to help -- and to go Dutch on dinner with you -- that you got a babysitter?" He holds up one finger, "No, wait. You had a backup plan. Night on the town, you seem like you're the type that likes... dancing."

Magnolia narrows those fierce blue eyes at Kevin. "Hey. Stop using that investigative journalism stuff on me, Kevin." Though she's not really all that fierce because she smacks him with that brilliant smile. "Fine, alright. I was planning to do something tomorrow night because I have to get out of the house. Sometimes, I just dump Lark and go binge Netflix at the coffee shop." If there's any Mom Guilt(tm) there, it's quietly buried beneath the snark and sass of Magnolia Jones. "Dancing? Girlfriend, I haven't danced since my wedding day." There it is-- that little tiny shadow, a darkening cloud. She shakes her head, dismissing it. "So, are you taking me up on my deal, or are you doing this pro bono?"

"Girlfriend? Why am I always girlfriend? I mean, I can totally be girlfriend, I've even got the legs to pull off a miniskirt, but I don't know, I don't like to be stereotyped." Kevin does not have the legs to pull off a miniskirt, they are far, far, far too hairy even for Washington state. "And if you're going to PI me, I'm going to IJ you. It's only fair. But yes, I will take you up on the deal, but only if you find some place to go dancing after." He pauses, his eyes widening a little, "I mean if you want to. Personally, I dance with great enthusiasm and zero skill, but if it's something you like doing, you should totally get a chance to do it."

Magnolia's smile takes on a brittle dryness. "I thought we were gender-bending..." Then she sighs out a breath and nods, giving Kevin's chest a gentle pat-patting that has her hand lingering there dramatically. "Alright, we can go dancing. But it will probably be the first sign of the apocalypse." Then she gives his shoulder a little squeeze. "I should get home. Lark and all that."

"Oh, do I have to call you the man of the house then?" Kevin shrugs a little helplessly, "I don't have much practice besides being one of the girls." There's a pause as she pat-pats his chest and then squeezes his shoulder, and he looks down at her hand, shrugging again, a little bashful grin flitting across his face, "Don't worry. When you see me dance, you'll want it to be the first sign of the apocalypse. I'd say 'give the munchkin a squeeze' but considering I've seen you like three times -- or four if we count a Big D -- I really thought that would sound less creepy than 'Dream,' but it sounded more creepy -- since high school, and haven't met her, I'll just say, 'have fun!'" Rambling, thy name is Kevin.

Magnolia stands there, hit by the whole wave of the Kevin ramble. Then her smile blossom easily, and she gives him a little shake at the arm. "I'll let her know you said hello, but next time we meet, you better get ready for like a twenty question quiz on everything you like and dislike." Then she grabs up her papers, tucks them into the file, but leaves the info she dragged up on the land. "See you tomorrow, Kay."

Kev is right out, but apparently, Kay is acceptable. It has no attachments to high school, so that helps. "Oh no, I'm going to stay the mysterious person who says hello through Mom until Mom's answered all the awkward questions. Then I'll swoop in to be the awesome dude in the cool shirts." He steps back so that she can gather up the contents of the file, then collects the leftovers, "I'll let you know as soon as I find anything out. See you tomorrow."