2019-07-20 - A Date-Not-Date

Magnolia does not go clubbing. This is distinctly obviously in the fact that she's not wearing anything club appropriate beyond her dark skinny jeans, tall heels because she's short and girl need every advantage she can get, and an open-back halter top that, until they stepped into the club, was beneath a simple gray blazer. They have found a seat at one of the tables that skirts the dance floor, and Magnolia is already in possession of a bright red drink in a martini glass. She's speaking to Kevin, having to lean in close to talk to him, "That whole thing is total bullshit!" She shakes her head. "The NSA is not using Audubon Society's trackers for covert intelligence gathering! They're fucking birds, Kevin. BIRDS!"

Kevin does not go clubbing. This is distinctly obvious in the fact that he's not wearing anything club appropriate. At all. Unsure of exactly what dinner and dancing was, he's got the boring middle route, with khakis, brown dress shoes, and a loose button up shirt of pale blue. At least he's not wearing a tie, and the top two buttons are undone. This is definitely not his scene, even if he nods along with the music enthusiastically. Her complaints draw a laugh and a shrug, and he takes a sip from his rum and coke, leaning in to respond in her ear, "Why not? I mean, it's not like it would be directed intelligence, but birds get everywhere. And how else are you going to bug a park?" Shaking his head, he offers up a smile, "That's your problem, Magnolia. You don't want to believe. The evidence is there, if you look for it, if you're willing to accept it. But you have to be willing to accept it." He pauses, then, just as the music trails down to near-quiet, he says loudly, "What do you want to believe in then?" Awkward. At least it was said with curiosity rather than as a challenge. The sudden loud words into the quiet do, however, cause him to shrink in behind his shoulders a little, like a turtle getting too much attention.

"Look. I gave you the one about the tracking ink in stamps. Could be legit. But I'm not, and I repeat, not giving you the birds. No. You're wrong." Magnolia is not letting this go. She takes another drink from her sticky cocktail before she points an accusatory finger at the reporter. "You're wrong, Mulder. You're wrong." Then she sighs out a harder breath, and she squints at the dance floor with all its various levels of skill and enthusiasm. Then he's bellowing his next question, at the couple at the other table turns toward them all the while Magnolia just smirks. "It isn't about wanting to believe in anything, Kevin... it's about having the evidence to believe in it." She sighs out a breath. "Look, my whole job is all about evidence. Yours, too. So, I believe in what the evidence tells me."

Kevin nods at the first grace that he's granted, but then frowns as she denies him the birds. "Woah there, Dana," at least he knows his geek references, "Just remember, Scully was convinced in the end too. That's why they had to bring Doggett in." He lifts his glass in salute, lofting his brows slightly, "Actually, my job was about evidence. Now it's about selling papers and -- mostly -- getting clicks." He grimaces, shrugging and taking a heavy swallow of the rum and coke, "And that works, as long as there isn't someone powerful trying to suppress the evidence. When that happens, you have to follow the traces of evidence instead of actual evidence." Gesturing across to her, he adds, "I mean, I'm sure that you've had cases like that, right?"

"I stopped watching when they brought in Doggett because he was the worst character ever, and I wanted Fox Mulder back." Magnolia has lost track of the important point of this conversation, but then she circles back. "You need to find some legitimate conspiracies that aren't just theories." But when Kevin mentions how his job has changed, Magnolia tilts her head with a frown. She leans in close to speak into his ear again as the music keeps throbbing around them. "Then get a new job!" She leans back from him briefly before she rocks back to add, "Or do the job you should do!" She gestures slightly at the room. "You choose, Kevin. Seriously."

Kevin rolls his eyes at the suggestion of finding a legitimate conspiracy, "Look, there are some horrible theories out there that are total BS, but the average person really doesn't know what's going on." The suggestion to get a new job is bad enough, but then she suggests doing the job he should, and his lips press together sharply, and actual flicker of annoyed anger flitting across his features. He's silent for a moment, then downs the remainder of his drink in a single swallow, grimacing all the harder as he does. "I did. Why the hell do you think I'm back in Gray Harbor, Magnolia?" Pushing the empty glass away, he curls in around himself a little, leaning over to say, "I was fired from three papers and two stringer jobs for telling the story that's actually out there -- with evidence." Disgust bubbles up in his throat, and he grumps, quieter, "And my editor's already shutting my stories down here."

"I don't know, Kevin. We haven't hit the part of the date where we unpack our life stories and explain what a nerd like you is doing in a place like this." If she's turned off by his anger, she doesn't show. Instead, she pushes him a bit harder. "Editors are always going to be dicks, Kevin." Before she can actually spur more truth from him though, she sighs out a breath, "Alright, well." She picks up the little tiny sword with the cherry on it, she pops the sticky fruit into her mouth. "So, you can be pissy about getting fired, and now all bitter about the Gazette, or you can decide what to do about that. You're an investigator, you write stories, what're you chasing right now?"

Kevin is driven quite out of his righteous anger by one little word in there. He blinks, the record-skip in his brain practically audible. "Shit. I should have picked up dinner." Shaking his head, he watches her pop the cherry in her mouth, blinking again before he looks up, "Murders in the Bayside Apartments. I need to talk to Byron about it." There's a pause, and then he sighs, "And the cat rescued from the tree last week. It's the third one this month already." Ahh, small towns. "There's talk of changing the pruning guidelines to make sure there are lower limbs in trees so that they can get down more easily."

"Should you have?" Magnolia smirks at Kevin at that little record-skip expression. Then she sighs out a breath as she looks out at the dancing. She thinks for a long moment only to then look back at Kevin. "Chase your stories, Kev-- in." That change sounds awkward, and Magnolia looks uncomfortable not having a nickname for Kevin. She pushes forward. "That all sounds... stupidly boring except for the Bayside Apartments"

"Well yeah, if it was..." Kevin stops. Clearly she knew it was a date, and if he makes it clear that he didn't know it was, then he's in serious trouble. "I can chase all the stories I want, Mags." Oh look, easy nickname. So why does he frown with dissatisfaction? "Nope. That won't do. It's too easy." Adjusting his glasses and slumping back into the little stool-chair, he leans over to respond to her over the music, "It is. Seattle's not so bad. Vancouver's pretty rough. Gray Harbor? Oof. Miserable. I mean, all the crazy stuff that gets shut down? And those aren't even the kind of conspiracies that are interesting." He taps the top of the table for a moment, frowning in thought, "Oh yeah, and your case. I'm still looking into that. Do you know how miserable it is to dig through microfilm?"

Magnolia smirks at the little stop in Kevin's words. "Don't worry, O'Neil-- I didn't think it was actually a date." She takes another deep drink from her martini, almost draining it. There's never enough booze in these things. Then she rests her weight on her elbows, narrowing her eyes slightly at Kevin. "Then why don't you start your own rag," Magnolia challenges back. "You think that G.H. doesn't deserve some paper that actually points out the shit going on. Most are going to think it's sensationalist, but some of us need a place to actually, like, honestly read about what's happening." Then she shakes her head with a flash of amusement. "I know. That's why I'm making you do it. I'm a wicked, evil woman, and you're cute when you're miserable!"

"Did you just Turtles me?" Because that's what's important here. Not discussion of whether or not this is a date, not talk about work. TMNT nicknames. He shakes his head, "Try harder, Lia." But then he comes back to the subject that's probably actually important, sighing faintly, "If I had money for a printing press or actual circulation, I would." Turning his head past hers to be able to talk at a semi-reasonable volume, he adds, "Everybody and their mother has a blog or two," which probably suggests that he does too, "but that's really just people who already know what's going on who find that. Without corporate support, it's almost impossible to break out into public consciousness, but as soon as you have corporate support..." he shrugs it off, laughing at her description of herself, "I see how it is. Give the guy with four eyes the eye strain." Beat pause, "I mean, at least I'm cute when I'm miserable, so the microfilm migraine works in my favor, right?"

"Yeah. It was a bad call. You're not a redhead in a sexy yellow jumpsuit." Magnolia finishes off her drink now, and pushes it too into the center of the table with Kevin's empty glass. His counters to her suggestion are met with shrugs. "Look! I didn't say it was the easy route, but you either bitch about things without wanting them to be fixed, or you bitch about things and then you fix them. Two options, Cap." She flashes him two fingers. Then she is settling into a little smile. "Yeah! The migraine is really the sexiest part about you, Kevin!" Then she gives his shoulders a shove with her knuckles.

"I mean, I could be," Kevin notes about being a redhead in a yellow jumpsuit. Sorry, sexy yellow jumpsuit. The new nickname causes him to narrow his eyes slightly, but he still nods a little, "You mean I need to step up and grow into a role, that it's been inside me the whole time, and I should punch Hitler in the jaw?" Okay, so the first two steps arguably tracked with her advice. He rocks away with the knuckle-shove, flashing a brief grin, "Oh good. I'm glad to know there's nothing sexier about me than a migraine. Just what every guy likes to hear." Hesitating a moment, he evidently decides to just forge ahead, because he flashes a grin, "Now, since I'm pretty sure if I ask about your work you'll tell me you can't comment on active cases, and if I ask about your daughter's school I'm creepy, I think this is where I ask you if you were serious about not having danced in five years, and if you wanted to change that."

"I mean, you do kinda look like that guy who plays Captain America. Hang on." Magnolia reaches for his glasses, and-- if he lets her-- eases them off his face. Then she gives his hair a bit of a ruffle, squinting at him. "Yeah. The chin pubes don't help with the image, but I can kinda see it." Then she offers him back his glasses. "Look, all I'm sayin' is that you can do what you think you need to do to actually be happy here. That's it." When Kevin crosses topics off the list-- because they aren't going to be talked about-- he's right that there's only one thing left. She glances cautiously at the dance floor, and then back to Kevin, and then she frowns. "I don't know, dude... you sure you want to drag me out there? Dancing with me will make you migraine worse."

When Magnolia slips his glasses off, Kevin squints hard at her, trying to get some clarity in his vision. It's not particularly successful, as she disappears into a pretty blonde blur. The ruffle to his hair causes a little squawk and he reaches up for his hair, only to make another inarticulate sound of complaint and stroke his facial hair, "Chin pubes? I don't think I've heard that one since... okay, since like last week. But still. Ruuuude." At least he's chuckling as he pulls on his glasses again, "Yeah, but that guy can't act. All he is is a pretty face and a pair of pecs. But don't worry, I get frustrated with work, but I'm actually pretty happy most of the time, except when I'm a dumbass." Straightening his glasses, he chuckles at Magnolia, "Wait... are you really saying you agreed to go out dancing and you don't like dancing? Or are you complaining because you don't think you can dance well?"

"Pretty sure Captain America is more than a pretty face and pair of pecs." Magnolia's rebuttal to this isn't backed up with any evidence. She instead looks precariously out to the dance floor when Kevin presses her a bit more. With a deep intake of breath, the tiny blonde rubs slightly at her opposite elbow. "I like to dance. I mean, I liked to dance." She chews slightly at the edge of her lip and then she sighs out an accepting breath. "Fine, okay. I don't think I'll dance well." Then she angles a look to him before she slips off the stool, alighting on her feet. She grabs Kevin by the arm and yank-drags him toward the dance floor.

"Of course Cap is... but the guy who plays him?" Kevin shakes his head, only to smile in response to her uncertainty. "Hey, it's f -- " and then he's getting grabbed and yanked, and he chuckles and follows her out to the dance floor, leaning in close to finish, "Fine! I'm pretty sure I dance pretty bad too, but that doesn't stop it from being fun!" And there he goes: Kevin dancing is almost all shoulders, head, and way too much in the way of arms. He even does The Shopper -- reach up, grab an item, put it in the basket, reach up, grab an item, put in the basket. He has little rhythm, but a great deal of enthusiasm.

Magnolia is a girl, so she can content herself with just a lot of hip moving and shoulder swinging and it all works out just fine. It is hard for a girl to dance poorly. Kevin, though-- "You do the White Man's Overbite and we're done with this date right now, Kevin Walters!" Then she is grabbing him and pulling him in close because there's some dude behind Kevin that is about as enthusiastic and this is how dance floor accidents happen.

At Magnolia's warning, Kevin quickly juts out his lower jaw -- just in time, he was getting into dancing. He's just starting to do the Mashed Potato when Magnolia grabs him and pulls him closer. He stumbles a little, recovering and looking back over his shoulder to see the other guy getting a little wild, laughing easily and leaning in to respond to her, "Thank you. I mean, for not running me into him. And for warning me about the overbite." He lingers close for a minute, "You dance great, Lia! And you keep calling it a date."

"Wishful thinking!" Those words are shouted back to him and then Magnolia shakes her head. "It isn't a date." Right? The PI touches the side of his ribs gently before she resumes her easy rhythm of moving on her feet, letting that beat flow up through her limbs and hips and shoulders. Her hand slides away from him, giving him a bit more space as she continues to at least keep-up with the beat of the song.

"Then you keep wishing it," Kevin teases back. Either he misunderstood, or he intentionally misunderstood. He leans back as she starts dancing again, and then laughs, bright color rising in his cheeks before he turns around to... yes... to twerk in her general direction. It's surprisingly not horrible. Very surprisingly. The question is, is that better or worse than the White Man's Overbite? At least she can't see the far-too-pleased expression on his face as he does it, and it's gone again when he turns around, getting back into the groove. It might be a long night, but at least he's having fun.

Magnolia feels a bit of a heat rise into her cheeks at his teasing retort. It is embarrassment-- hot and raw, and she finds herself wishing deeply she hadn't said anything. So, she clears her throat and offers him a short-lived smile. This is probably when in most not-dates that Magnolia would offer something a bit more sharp and dismissive, but she's glancing back to him in time to see Kevin twerking-- and twerking quite well. "Oh god!" Then Mags covers her eyes just a little string of laughter escapes her. Then she glances back toward him over the edges of her fingers with a shake of her head. "You're such an idiot." There's no actual insult in those words before she resumes her easy dancing. There's restraint there though, because she can't really let it all go. That's her basic M.O.

Kevin looks over his shoulder at her 'oh god,' laughing as he does. She may hold back, but he doesn't. He doesn't really know how to most of the time. He pauses his dancing a moment to consider being accused of being an idiot, however, and then he shrugs, "One of my best qualities. That and just getting over being ashamed of having fun."

"Maybe your only," Magnolia fires back before she turns back to dancing. Then she is trying to take a breath as she lets herself go-- or at least, trying to. It isn't an easy feat because Magnolia doesn't really let herself go unless she's at home, and it's past midnight, and if she doesn't finish that box of wine it will surely go bad. For now though, she does try.

"Don't forget my migraines," Kevin fires back, "I've been told they're sexy." He doesn't push any further though, just enjoying dancing and getting her home in time for the babysitter to go home.