2019-11-15 - Lunch Date

Sparrow must've been really waiting for any reason to get off-campus between classes today because she makes it back over from Hoquiam in record time. Not that it's much of a drive even on the worst days, but still. She's already here, and settled into a booth with her backpack settled beside her on the seat. Luckily, the creep has not begun to spread across the table, laptop and textbooks still stored away. The cuffs of the white shirt she wears under her dark grey sweater peek out and fold back up, the garment likewise hanging loose past her hips, over her jeans. It's a cute look which would be very understated on anyone else. But she's accessorized with bright make-up and a couple colorful rings. Nevermind the high-gloss black nails like she might be edging toward some goth phase. She's already got a glass of water, but that's it, barely touched as she fusses with her phone happily.

Gabriel might have been a shower away from getting out of the house, anyway, but it all works out. He is fresh and clean and in his usual off-duty outfit of a leather jacket, henley, and jeans when he slides into a seat across from Sparrow, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

"Hey, beautiful. Hope you're not meeting anyone for lunch because you've got me for a date now." Yes, it is a lame line. Yes, Gabriel winks anyway. He sizes up the dress shirt in person, but doesn't say anything. "You look great."

Lame? No. Cheesy. And what do Sparrows like most? Well, probably color and kissing and chaos in general, but cheese is definitely pretty high on the list too! She smiles bright, lips all high-gloss mulberry, and notes, "My calendar just says 'Sexy Detective.'" She bats her lashes with over-the-top coyness she doesn't even try to sell and asks, "Is that you?" Reciprocating that hand-squeeze, she sets her phone down, face up and screen off, with nothing blinking for her attention. "Got a very important question for you," sounds not as serious as the words 'very important' might make it seem. "What's the chance you're gonna get some time off before, say, mid-December?"

"Oh. Sexy detective?" asks Gabriel when the detective hears of her calendar appointment. "Well, in that case ..." He looks for a moment that he is about to get up, before, of course, he doesn't, come on. He squeezes her hand again, content to remain hand in hand. When a server comes by, he asks for just a diet Coke, thanks. "But -- I think we'll be wrapped before then. Or I hope. Or I can get the time off. Just let me know the dates so I can put them in. You done with classes by then?" It's been a while before he's been in school and remembers the calendars.

Sparrow's eyes roll all dramatic like at the fake out. Please. The look she gives Gabe says she is perfectly ready to call his bluff if that's how he wants to play it. Thankfully, he does not, and she blows a kiss across the table when he, essentially, concedes to her compliment. That's what happened, right? To his order of a diet coke, she adds, "And some of those fries with the burnt ends on 'em?" Cuz holy yum! "Thanks!" Refocusing on the man across from her, she informs him, "What I've got planned is just better between now and then. Like. One hundred percent, no joke, amazing better. But it's still alright after, if'n we have to wait. And gods know I get more break later in December. But I can wobble on Fridays and Mondays if I gotta, if we can't make a full and proper weekend." With a cheesy waggle of her dark brows, she asks, "Curious?"

"I am! Of course I am curious. You are a hell of a planner, Sparrow," says Gabriel as he assents to the order of fries with brunt ends. Yes, that sounds like an excellent, and by excellent, he means terrible, lunch. "Also wondering how it is better in mid-December. Something holiday related?" he wonders out loud. "And when are your finals? I need to send care packages or something then."

"You don't know the half of it," Sparrow croons confidently of her ability to plan. For as good as she is at taking things as they come? Even better at making things happen. Of course, at the moment, it's all talk. Her brows get another of those little wiggles at his question, as he tries to suss out the details. "It might be considered seasonal, certainly a limited time thing, but it is not holiday related." Beat. "And my finals aren't anything you need to worry about. Promise. Have you had Corey's cooking yet? I promise, I am well cared for." With a curious cant of her head, she adds, "Unless you had something else in mind?" Shameless.

Shameless indeed! "Well, sure. I am sure that the cooking is good. But I can send, like, I don't know. M&M's and trail mix and granola bars or whatever else it is you send for these things. My Mom just smothered with me beans and rice during exams, but I lived close to home, at college so." Gabriel shrugs his shoulders, as if that somehow all makes sense to him. So it is sort of the same thing. "Yet. Hey. If you need that. I'm on call. You just need to focus." He is curious about the expedition, though. "So seasonal, but not holidays. What the ..."

"My parents are, like, a five minute drive," Sparrow notes to Gabriel with a warm smile. "The only reason my dad has stopped bringing by soup on the regular is because Corey has retaliated by bringing over his soup, and dad knows he can't win the Soup War." She pauses as the server brings by Gabe's soda and a big basket of double-fried fries smothered in brisket burnt ends and barbecue sauce. There's a little sound of approval from the redhead before she chirps a, "Thank you!" to the server, shaking her head to note she doesn't need anything else. But Maybe Gabe does?

Either way, Sparrow continues, "I like skittles." Obviously. "And cute little squishy toys. And handwritten notes. If you're serious. But I really, truly, genuinely am a-okay at getting through the bullshit on my own." Her smile skews sweetly to one side for a second before she refocuses, redirects, a glint in her eyes. "Would you rather be surprised or puzzle it out? If you wanna play detective, I'll letcha ask some questions, but it's gonna kill the surprise."

Gabriel does not need anything more! He is good! Those are plenty! And perhaps another three miles on his run tomorrow. But that is a problem for Tomorrow Gabriel.

"Well, yeah. I mean. I know you don't need a man to fuss over you during exams, but, I don't know, if we're a Thing, doesn't that mean I need to pamper you during exams? Give you the real college experience?" This might be one of those places where the age difference shows. But he seems to be making notes about what she likes. "Okay. And exams start ..." Fill in the blank. "And no. I like surprises. I spend all of my days figuring out mysteries."

Sparrow straightens a little and gives Gabriel what might be a stern look, were it not softened by the warm smile which accompanies it. "The requirements for being in some sorta thing with me are honesty, whole-hearted focus when we're together..." The way she needs to pause to think kinda suggests she might be making this up on the spot. "Continued interest from both parties and... a good bit of excitement now and then." Her gaze shifts as she considers whether there's anything else she wants to add to that list, but, nope, that's it. Refocusing: "No pampering needed. Accepted, but not obligated, k? I am a no obligations girl." That, at least, sounds important. "But finals are second week in December, so. Probably shouldn't go then." Sigh. "And trust me, you're gonna love the surprise. Sweep you off your feet sorta silliness. Cuz that's what it means to be in some sorta thing with me."

Gabriel reaches over to the french tires and gnaws on one (along with its attendant burnt ends) when he listens to his Rules for Being Kinda in a Thing with Sparrow. He nods his head thoughtfully, all ears. "Shit. Wait. Hang on. Let me get my pad out." But he doesn't get his pad out. He just grins.

"You're not obligations, maybe. But you're the sort of girl that makes a guy want to do things for. That is all. And I'm sure I will. You've got a way with people, Sparrow. And a professional judge of people, that's a compliment."

Sparrow rolls her eyes at the call for note-taking, her smile wide, happy. She picks at the fries shamelessly, leaning forward to keep from dripping any sauce or meat on her sweater or, gods forbid, the collar of that very, very white shirt underneath. She can't help how she blushes at Gabe's counter, head dipping in gracious acceptance of the compliment, received as such before he labels it. That gets a snort of laughter. "Yeah? Guess I gotta accept it then." Softer, she tells him, "I like people," as if it were some big secret. "Especially ones who aren't afraid. Who can keep pace. Who have big golden hearts and magnificently filthy minds."

"Yeah. I gathered. I mean, that you like people, that is." Gabriel reaches out for another french fry, trying to keep it from dripping on his henley. (It's going to anyway. He should just accept that now, right? Yes, he should.) But he smiles, his eyes dropping to that white shirt. "You're enchanting, Sparrow. You've got this zest for life that's infectious. That makes people want to open hearts and share the dirty stuff. Spell on me or something." Not literally. He's the Mentalist between the two of them. (Or the better one.)

"I'm secretly a warlock," Sparrow confides with a very dramatic waggle of her brows. "Gathering my minions so that I can take over the world." She shoves some more fries in her mouth, eyes happily half-lidding for all the smoky, spicy, sweet yumminess that is crispy brisket-bits on top of french fries. Really, does life get better than this? Probably not. With a little tip of her head this way then that, fingers definitely not going up to reach for anything, she wonders, "Why ya keep looking at my neck? I gotta hickey or something?" She does not. "Secretly a vampire?"

"Huh? No. Just." Gabriel gestures. "Shirt looks good on you, is all. Distracting. As you always are." It is true, in its way. The shirt does look good on her. And it is distracting. But he just grins a little bit. "Anyway." His eyes are now fully on hers. "I think we're going to figure out the Krugers. And we are starting to dig in on this body in the harbor. Good stuff's happening. It's getting better."

Famous last words.

Sparrow's brows arch at that compliment. Her tongue tips out to the corner of her mouth--just in case there's any stray sauce--then dips her head toward the collar, breathing in. "I like it," she tells Gabriel, admitting that it's, "Something of a gift." Her smile goes a bit reserved, but she accepts the redirection without question, nodding. "I'm glad. Gotta feel good, feeling like you're getting somewhere."

Brows furrow a bit as another thought occurs. "I, uh, know this isn't homicide or anything, and I really hope it stays that way, but... like. I'm thinking that maybe those weird movies we've been visiting? Three now, I think. Unless I missed one. Kinda incentive to not sleep at home." With a frown, "Mine or yours," as they're both on Oak. "But this guy? Charlie. Really boring looking, right? He seems really knowledgeable about all the movies. And pretty sure he lives on Oak. And I think maybe we should talk with him. But not sure I can just go banging door to door looking." Did she have a question? Who knows.

At the statement that the shirt is a gift, Gabriel just nods. It makes sense to him! Of course! But he doesn't say anything else about it.

Especially when the issue of the odd movie dreams come up. "Yeah. I guess it's been a benefit of working night shifts," says Gabriel. He often isn't sleeping at home. At least not at night.

"But you think this Charlie knows something he isn't saying and not just because he's a movie buff. And we need to figure out if there is a Charlie who lives on Oak. Like, say, I don't know, through property records. And if you only had a detective who knew how to search property records." He fills in the gaps.

Sparrow smiles almost sheepishly across the table at Gabriel. "That's the thought, yeah." Even if he's the one who made it whole and complete. "I know it's kinda a wild swing. It could be nothing. I tried to give Charlie my info, but he hasn't sought me out. I think he wants nothing to do with any of it? But... I dunno." Shrug. "Maybe he is just a movie buff, and it's nothing, but maybe not, ya know?" A little softer, she adds, "Not that I know what there is to do if we find him. I dunno how to..." She hesitates, a sigh preceding, "Stop any of this." But that's a gloomier note than she wants to linger on.

"Anyway." She musters a smile. "Mario Kart or Super Smash Brothers?" Out of nowhere. No context. Knowing full well he probably has no opinion. She noms some more fries, leaving the basket nearly empty, then sets to wiping her hands, thoroughly, carefully, mindful of those very white cuffs.

"Well. I can look into him, at least. Like you said, maybe he's a harmless movie buff. But if he is the one behind it, somehow ..." Gabriel's voice trails off. Like Sparrow, he has no idea how to stop it, even if Charlie is the one behind it. "I don't know. Maybe we can figure something out." He squeezes her hand as the waitress comes by to clean up the food and drop their check.

Gabriel then reaches for his wallet, pausing at the question. "Ahhhh. Mario Kart?" He has a fifty-fifty chance.

Sparrow murmurs another, "Thanks," to the server, reflexive, when the table's cleared a bit. Keeping hold of Gabe's hand, even if he needs it, she leans forward to press a few kisses to his knuckles, that lipstick not transferring at all, before she lets him go. "Mario Kart," she agrees. "Come over tonight. I know AJ's gonna be superlate. Friday and all." Which means good tips. Which help college kids pay rent on their ridiculous house. "I could really, really go for some silly, mindless fun. If you're up for it. And work doesn't eat you."

Gabriel does, in fact, need his hand to pay for their lunch, the detective instinctively going to pick up the tab for the college student across from him. But he leaves his hand in hers until she releases, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah," he says, a grin coming to his lips. "I'd like that. A lot."

For the Mario Kart, obviously. "I'll let you know. I'm not on tonight. But." But if a body drops, Gabe goes.

Sparrow collects her phone, which does now have a blue light blinking out a notification which she'll worry about later, device shoved into her pocket. She snags her backpack and slides from the booth, getting the straps around both shoulders as she circles around to Gabe's side. "It's a date," she tells him of the Mario Kart. And then hesitates. "Alright if I kiss you?" In public. Where people can see. Nevermind the earlier touching. This is different.

Gabriel gets to his feet as well and considers the question for just a half a second. "Of course it's okay. You're my whatever and something, right?" he says of their formless, labeless relationship. An arm goes around her and he leans down, expecting her to meet him half way.

"Some sorta thing," Sparrow agrees as she edges in close, wrapping both her arms around Gabriel as she presses up to her toes. She doesn't smell like herself today. No apples, no plums, no smoke. Today, the scent's a bit more masculine, refined: white musk, citron, lime lifted by a hint of lilac. An incidental detail, irrelevant to how she kisses him, slow and sweet and so very happily, lingering in that nearness a little longer than might be properly polite in public. "I needed this," she tells him quietly while they're still so close. "You. Thank you." A soft peck punctuates that thought before she slips free, making for the door as she tells him, "Tonight! I'mma kick your ass, handsome!"