2019-11-18 - Cheese Fries, Extra Cheese

The mist turned to rain on the short drive, thunder roaring in protest of previously likable weather. It was about to pick up even worse, a small window of opportunity granted to them. Time being of essence, Maggi opens her own door, splashing onto damp asphalt. Maggi gives the door a solid push, unused to it's weight and not wanting to damage a vehicle in far better condition than her own. Her Martins thunk against the ground, moving in a light jog and deciding to open the door for him this time, true feminism being about gender equality and all. She waits for the tall man to enter, the heavy bar door slamming behind them both. Twice in a week, she was almost becoming a regular here.

Scanning the room she selects one of the more worn booths, the pleather cracking in some places. Maggi thought of it as character. Leon also did not seem to mind imperfection, so this may just be a further test. As a professional student, tests were kind of her thing. Removing a slightly damp jacket (By sweat or the short burst of rain, she would not admit) she places it beside her in the booth. Maggi's torso sports a low cut black tank. Reflexively she pulls her hair into a knot with a tie previously concealed on her wrist. His order would determine her own, the mistake of choosing beer when the company was onto scotch fresh in her mind. She did not like to follow, but she also did not love being sober amongst the drunk. Having sorted herself, her eyes move to the draft and cocktail listings, just in case of changes. She also did not want to come across as someone who overly frequented the local bars, that got you looks. "They have what I hear is a good IPA, if you suffer through that sort of thing" she offers. He may just want to move to a harder drink being over six feet and all.

Leon had no disdain for practicality, and he had parked her nearer the door, anyhow. Might as well benefit. He does a quick jog through the slowly growing rain, heavy Red Wings a far more imposing noise than Maggi's cute little shoes. Leon takes a quick look around, pausing to take a measure before following Maggi. He hadn't been in this bar more than a couple times, but was intimately familiar with its sort of clientele. More a familial knowledge, and the memories of the reputation... honestly didn't hold up now that he was an adult. He'd been in seedy bars plenty of times, and the mythical Pourhouse his parents always seemed to stumble home from didn't really seem as daunting from the inside once he'd come back to town. He was lucky he was nearly twice the weight of the kid that left, or people here might have actually recognized him.

He slides into the booth without a second thought. Booths were for sitting. Maggi didn't know his preferences, and given his open admission of army life, didn't fault her for the assumption. He eyes the list, if only to seem polite at her suggestion, but his eyes drop to the harder drinks almost immediately, "Glowing review," he teases just a bit, "but... probably safer to stick to the hard stuff." He finds a tolerable bourbon to order for himself, tapping the menu as he sets it flat. The combination of the tank and Maggi's arms raised to tie her hair back gets a covertly appreciative glance from Leon, but he plays it off well enough.

This illicits a genuine grin from his companion. She was far more attractive when she smiled, peril be to him should he state it. Maggi was fairly happy with her choice to let him set the pacing, deciding on a vodka cranberry for herself. She didn't love the drink, but it was a staple. Vodka, her liquor of choice, without some fruity she may indulge in whilst trying to curate impressions. Maggi doesn't seem to notice him glance, despite her perceptive nature. She after-all, still wasn't sure why they were here entirely. Once drinks are placed before them she cocks her head in challenge.

"Alright, let's see the deviant's mark." This was obviously a joke considering the several small images on her wrist and forearm, or perhaps a compliment given the company. Taking a sip of her vodka she frowns in disdain. Coffee straws strike again, too thin to sip from adequately, more an adornment. A well made drink never needed stirring unless the person drinking it was too uptight to enjoy it in a timely manner. She removes the straw, setting it on a cocktail napkin and taking an actual swig. She waits, expectant.

Leon was actually already in the process of taking his jacket off, a plain tshirt beneath that was a red color chased with white in the way fashion seemed to pre-add fading to things. The soft cotton did not do much to disguise the muscular form beneath, and it rode high on his bicep already. Strangely, in response, Leon was looking one way, then the other now, his eyes anywhere but in Maggi's direction, as if searching for something, "Wait... wait a second... did you see who was just sitting here?" He looks to Maggi, brows knitted together in concern and confusion, "I swear she was just here, but she never, by no means, smiled." He makes a faux grumpy face, "Hell of a wit, though. But hey, you're just as easy on the eyes, so I'll have to find her later." He holds a wistful look for a long moment before finally bringing his eyes to Maggi in a bit of a mischievous joke.

He turns his body a little in the seat, fingers hooking under the fabric to pull the sleeve of his shirt up over his shoulder. The full image of the medical journal styled skeleton of the vulture now visible, his elbow set on the table between them, he waits for her to inspect it. The tips of black feathers can actually be seen just peaking out from the very top of where he was pulling back the shirt, but that seemed a completely other piece, and was probably more extensive beneath the shirt. Probably why had made the statement about drinks to begin with. With his free hand, he takes the first small sip of his bourbon, letting out a little breath of appreciation.

A frown creases her lips at his remark, the smile remaining in her eyes. He was clever she would give him. The motive he had in mind was clearly flirting , which, she decidedly didn't mind. She was used to people trying too hard to seem interesting in a way they thought she would be enticed by. That was primarily the college dating pool. That fact only got worse in grad school. Pompous was how she would describe several failed dates. The other end of the spectrum was worse, all looks and no brains.

The revealed ink however, showed a rather attractive balance of both. The image itself was both well penned and tragic. True art, evoking emotion. Vultures symbolizing death and despair, meant loss. She wanted to ask but, was afraid to ruin the mood. "That is a stunning piece" she states breathlessly. The canvas on which the art was displayed was not bad either. She was sure Leon knew that part though. His small flexes seemed intentional and she certainly did not mind them. "Where did you get that done?" Lips pressed to her glass once more she takes a second sip, eyes lingering on his arm a bit longer.

"Turkey." he says, letting the sleeve fall again, shrouding the head of the skeletal bird like some sort of falconer's hood. Any other hints of ink now hidden as well, he gets curious. It seemed like that had gone over well, so he could at least humor worked on this one. He shifts his weight in the seat, leaning both arms on the table, one folded over across his body, hand settled in the crook of his elbow. This left his hand free to drink in a comfortable position. "And thanks. I actually looked the guy up. He told me to fuck off initially. I went to his shop to tell him to fuck off. Apparently, that made him want to do it. Whole arm, too. Was supposed to just be bicep." His head tips upward, chin pointing toward her, brows lifted in interest, eyes wandering. "Alright, I showed you mine, let's see yours." The ink on her arms, yeah, that was what he was looking at.

The combination of information spewing forth as Leon relaxed only inspired more unease in Maggi. Her emotional state was not discomfort, rather riskiness. What once seemed more like a seesaw was becoming a decided victory. Not only was the piece intense, he showed force of personality in how it was obtained, the forethought of research, and the boldness to share it unabashedly. Her brow flicks upward again, a coy half smile in accompaniment. "Pretty sure you got a vulture skeleton, not a turkey." It was a bad joke, for which she felt a bit bad, but then again he did have a cheesy side. Another swig of bitter vodka, she makes a mental note to add a sugar packet to the next one, or order a better drink depending on her level of comfort. Nothing girly per say, just more flavorful. Vodka was an alcohol best taken straight, or hidden at the bottom of more complex flavors.

Gingerly, she extends her wrist outward to him. In typed script the words "You're not alone" are plastered in a minimalist fashion. The triceps of her right arm is the constellation Scorpius. Both are black ink, a heavy contrast to the parlor of her skin. She would not identify the origins of either for him. Leon would have to either already know or ask.

Shoulders slumping, face breaking into a wide eyed look of stress just freshly dispelled, Leon puts on a good show of faux relief as Maggi delivers the news, his words like the air of a deflating balloon, "Oh thank goodness." He particulates idly withhis drink as he goes on to maintain the ruse, "We were both really mad at the time, and there was a language barrier. My Arabic sucks, all I had was the Kurdish I learned in SOI." He waves at the bones, "And who really knows what they look under all that Thanksgiving grub mass." He extends his drink holding hand, resting his forearm across her hand, both in the way one touches when conveying emotion, but also to keep her hand down so he can look at the tat, making sure his tirade would put her off.

He inspects the words carefully, "Ok, so we got some Bowie lyrics aaaand..." He has to crane his neck as she no doubt has to shift to show off the second one. Forwardly, he would actually attempt to reach out and trace the constellation, stopping just short of her skin, the heat of his touch close enough to be felt. After a moment, he gives up, "Some stars. Yep. Nailed it." His face goes from a smug prideful expression as he sits back, to slightly turning aside and grimacing as his shoulders hunch, as if an on-stage fourth-wall break to convey he most certainly did not nail it.

A cackle erupts from the overly serious woman. She was fairly certain that Leon was joking, but the elaborate story he had spun from a one off comment was just extra. Elaborate and yet entirely plausible sounding like something one might read on Reddit. In split second of his touch her thoughts raced. The first being to attempt pulling her hand back. The second, surmising this was not so bad. With the tantrum came ripples of muscle in the appendage that pinned her hand. Maggi's heart begins to race too fast, with a few slow deep breaths she quiets her mind, staring at him coyly.

Forehead raised, a look of both disgust and concern, neither real. "Next you gonna tell me it's raining?" The universe seemed to enjoy adding a bit of drama to her point, thunder booming, a flash of lightning splitting through the sky in punctuation. The corner of her mouth slides towards the sky in further mockery. "Scorpius, the mark of a tried and true enigma" A knowing grin fully stretches across her face "You stubborn bull."

"Would you rather I didn't? I'm guessing you don't want to share a booth with a crazy person." He lifts the edge of his damp jacket as an example he was of sound mind. Leon grins more openly now, feeling a bit more at ease that he made her laugh and that she hadn't hauled off and slapped him for having the gall to touch her.

"Oh, like horoscopes?" he wonders, seemingly not shy to show she was probably way outside his knowledge base with that subject, his eyes track away and up as he has to recall, "Yeah, guess that's right, how'd you know?" Could be a tactic just to let her feel superior, or just a lead up to something else. Everybody knew at least a little, right? "Scorpio is the sexy one, yeah?" His lips purse out in contemplation as he takes a sip of his booze, asserting, "Makes sense." His eyes remain off her, real casual like. They were expecting cheese fries after all.

His move stands up tactically, the smile recalled to her face. He had not yet moved his arm and she had not yet pulled away. The touch gave a dizzying sort of intensity to the atmosphere of the former saw mill. Leon was a challenging individual who seemed to enjoy seeing what he could get away with. Maggi attributes much of this to him being a Taurus, the only sign that could truly give her a run for her money. The realization meant arguments could quickly reach toxic levels, or really intense interactions was inticing. She tried not to think about his arms for a third time.

"Ya like horoscopes" is her brazen reply. "I also regret to inform you that it is in fact you who may be sitting in a booth with a crazy person. The world has a way of making the most colorful snakes venomous." She did not refer to herself as sexy or alluring. Maggi could be alluring or perhaps magnetic when she wanted to be, but she didn't think as much of her looks as Leon apparently did. "While primarily a pseudoscience many cultures have their own system of distinguishing predetermined personality traits. Many of them aren't entirely wrong. Personality in general though can get a bit dicey in facts, one of the more important aspects of human interaction we have no solid basis of understanding." Oh no, she was geeking. She wasn't trying to show off, more so she just had strong opinions that many did not share. Her specialty was on a bit of the esoteric side...He was definitely sharing a booth with a crazy person.

"So..." Leon squints a bit toward the wall behind her as he has to wade through the facts as she presents them, eyes finally coming back to her as he breaks into a grin, "You're saying you guessed. Based on some just a few things you think about me, but there was no way for you to be sure." Honestly the way he continued to grin, slightly teasing without seeming condescending or dismissive, it may be a few things other than her looks that gave him the impression she was sexy.

"Anyhow, I'll take my chances. The conversation's good, and I'm pretty sure I could take you if you came at me with a knife or something." He gives her the little challenging down-up kind of glance as he enjoys his booze.

The waitress was approaching with their fries, and Leon seemed to turn to look with an expectant grin just as she passed the people that were nearest to them three booths over. Could be coincidence, but the ambiance in here was too high for him to have heard her. He had been looking at the other kitchen entrance before while the waitress had come out of a different one directly behind him.

Maggi squints in Leon's direction, he was riding the line of coming across as belittling. To counter that he had added in flattery, smooth, almost enough to stop her bristling at his comments. She had been right hadn't she? Most discoveries started as belief for which empirical evidence could then be found. No one bothered with things they didn't think in the first place. Gleaming teeth bite the inside of her lip, chewing.

Usually one of the most alert people she knew, it was a bit strange that he noticed the waitress first. This bothered her in a way she could not explain. Perhaps he fancied her. Perhaps despite his banter, he was bored. At the bottom of the list was the possibility that Leon was just really hungry...Maggi had never been one for coincidences, slipping back into overthinking. Slender fingers slide backward from beneath his grasp under the guise of lifting a drink she had been sipping with the other until that point. She downs the remainder of the beverage, the glass perspiring beneath her touch.

Cheese fries delivered, she did her best not to show the working gal any possibly unwarranted disdain. "Can I just get whatever the bartender feels like making so long as it's not grape?" The waitress seems almost perplexed by the concept, but sensed some hostility from the tough looking grunge gal, nodding. Despite her hunger, Maggi did not did into the cheese fries, running more tepid than hot towards Leon. If he thought her interests were bull, he could direct the conversation. If he thought the waitress was hot? He could do as he pleased.

Leon has the gall to squint back at her, mostly from trying to piece together the shift in mood, part knowing he'd walked that line and wandered too far on the teasing side. Contemplatively, he taps his glass, also almost empty, a quick glance made to the waitress to make sure she knew he wanted another drink.

Just as she was about to leave, though, he raises his palm, a stopping motion, still staring at Maggi. Jealousy? Holding his gaze on the blond, making it clear she had his attention and focus, he contemplates for a moment more. He asks Maggi, "May I?"

Were she to given him any positive reaction, he'd remark, "You like the taste of vodka drinks, but too much mix and its just sugar... Thats why you went for a cranberry." This was easier to read than it would seem, given he didn't just have visual clues to read her. He looks to the waitress, "Sorry, cancel my bourbon. Can you make us a Black Russian and a Lemon Drop, double, no garnish." He was hoping the order would at least seem interesting to Maggi, and put less stress on the waitress to make a decision Maggi might dismiss out of hand. Bartenders made chicks chick drinks, and his sense of Maggi was the misogynist way that would play out would sour her mood.

When the waitress leaves, he holds up his hands innocently, "If you like one, I'll drink the other. If you hate both, looks like I'm walkin home." The last bit brings back the ghost of a grin, hoping the joke goes over.

The Black Russian was a pass, but she sensed he knew that. The Lemon drop on the other hand...Not too sweet, not too girly. Whether she would admit it or not she associated lemon drops with figures of authority. Dumbledore's favorite candy. That was possibly the dorkiest thing she could say out loud though so she avoided that. Canceling the drink order, challenging her, rude but not unwelcome. She had just not wanted to have to make a decision on one. The shift in attention is well-received. While never the life of the party, Maggi preferred to enrapture a single target or small group.

She did not entirely like being read. The assumptions are accurate and she concedes. The bar tender on staff might have made something bubblegum flavored anyhow, that would have been disastrous, her feeling an obligation to drink it. Choice in this case was entirely an illusion, one he was allowing her to maintain. Picking up a cheese ladened fry, she noshes. She would neither admit a partial defeat, nor express gratitude. Her eating was always a good sign. To anyone who could read it, an indication she was not upset. Not since the cupcake incident anyway.

Another cheesy fry makes it past her lips, Maggi swallows, pondering. "You are not a front liner, you think too much." The statement was almost an accusation. A half finger point in in assertion prior to picking up two fries stuck together.

Now he actually saw her eat, Leon takes a few fries for himself, grabbing a ketchup bottle and squirting a large portion for dipping on a side of the plate away from the fries, but equidistant from eachother. He dip, and eats, his shoulders rising and falling again in a gesture of innocence. "Another time, another place. You do a thing, people get you to do that thing again."

There's a sort of reverie, a glance at his tatted arm, mind drifting back to the Intel work. It takes him a beat, then he seems to draw himself out of it, eyes focusing on Maggi again, that little smirk becoming evident again, "Is this what we're gonna do? Try reading eachother back and forth? 'Cause I think I'm gonna run out quick. I'm not the college educated one." Which ironically or not, was another read, the age, educated manner she spoke, and most importantly, the parking sticker he remembered on her car.

The ketchup is moderately ignored in the presence of cheese, the flavor could be overpowering. It would seem he had a habit of drifting into his own thoughts as well. She would wait a few drinks before asking about the military again, though after three she wasn't entirely sure she could stop herself, and he had ordered a double.

"That's kind of what people do in these interactions anyway right? Try to figure stuff out?" Maggi was careful not to use the term date, Leon certainly had not. "Besides college education has nothing to do with it. You are observant and practical, I'll take that over pompous any day." She knew locksmithing was a trade. Trades by no means made you incompetent or unintelligent. If anything he had significantly more actual life experience. She didn't want to pad his ego further, the two of them might not fit in the booth if she did.

Maggi chances the ketchup, dabbing a minute amount onto the end of the cheese delivery device. "Your topic choice then, first one to run out of things to say picks the next topic, should keep things pretty fair." *The drinks arrived quickly, the bar not heavily occupied at this time of day. The Lemon Drop is taken from the waitress without consideration of Leon. A Black Russian was a military mans drink and they both knew it. Maggi manages a half smile to the waitress. "I much prefer learning about other people than talking about myself, kind of a shitty quality in a drinks partner."

It was actually a 50/50 shot at the drink orders, truth be told. While the lemon drop was made for enjoying, ordering it sans garnish was to appeal to her wish to not be seen in a bar with a girly drink. Alternatively, the coffee liquor of the Black Russian had a sweet quality to it that balanced the vodka in it, which Leon admires as he takes a sip. He takes a moment to turn toward the bar, make eye contact with the tender and raise the glass, giving a thumbs up. The bartender had no doubt been looking to make sure. Knowing it would seem like a strange interaction, Leon turns back to Maggi to explain. "I know a Black Russian is kind of a weird drink, rarer to see state-side. If he didn't have to look it up, fuggin' kudos to him." Another sip, another pinch of admiration on his face.

He contemplates Maggi for a long moment, brows furrowed, considering her words, having to think on what topic he may want to go on, "Thing is, in these interactions," the word has a distinct tone to it, "I've got a pretty narrow baseline on, but... I don't think I'd ask for an interaction with you if I didn't want to hear you talk about yourself. So... Why vodka?" He takes that leaning position again on his elbow, hand in the crook of the arm when it wasn't retrieving cheesy, ketchupy carbs, sipping his drink as he stares across at her.

The fries, while delicious, are rather greasy. This in mind Maggi uses the second hand, slender fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass. A small hum of pleasure escapes her. The yellow liquid was smooth, sweet, tart. This was one of her favored drinks but it always tasted better when someone else made it. In all honesty she had no idea what a Black Russian even was. The drink sounded archaic enough that she was surprised the bar tender knew about it.

The beverage was dangerous. The double was barely detectable, and she was already a quarter through. He was playing dirty, using her own terminology against her. The conversation was going to become painful unless they both of them opened up she supposed. Her gut instinct was to respond 'Why Bourbon'. That did not seem particularly helpful to the situation. "I will answer than if you level the field here. This drink is twice the strength of yours and myself a foot shorter...sooooo...we both may be walking." A steely blue wink as she rises to her feet and walks to the bar counter. Faux leather legging pants visible the entire way. A few words are exchanged and she walks back carefully cradling a shot of Bourbon.

She sets it before Leon on the table. Sitting, her hands fold beneath her chin and she watches expectantly. Maggi does hold up her bargained end, however. "Cheap" she giggles. "Yet powerful, honestly the best standard for someone who may never land a real job." Now the question felt appropriate. "Why that?" she indicates with a twirling index toward the shot.

Leon's lips make a jutted flat line, as if the thought was quite a valid one. Leon leans more onto his elbows and cranes his neck out and to the side as she leaves, his blue eyes unable to help but follow that walk across the bar. He took a moment to appreciate that he had to opportunity to give her some real consideration this time, following the movement of those black clad legs. Waffle Shoppe had been far too crowded for a good look. He could not complain in the least about the bourbon delivery method, and the almost distracted grin he had on his face complimented the way his gaze followed her. He meets her eyes as he lifts the shot in toast, but he begins to talk before he takes it.

"Alright, I got one problem with that," he downs it without protest. No, with pleasure was more like it, his face puckering in enjoyment, then lips opening to breath out and savor the flavor on his tongue. No liquor tasted better than when delivered by an attractive woman. He continues, "Sure, you've got attitude, but even in this town, people with brains go places." He stares into the empty shot glass for a thought, a small wry smirk on his face, "Guess I walked myself into that one." His face squeezes into a wince a bit as he glances to Maggi, his arm straightening as he places the shot glass far to the side, away from the edge, upside down, like it was a marker for something, maybe intending to build himself a castle, and this was just the first cornerstone, "My parents loved beer. I didn't wanna live by their standards." His elbow finds the table again, his chin rested in one hand as he roughly imitates her pose. What was his next move? Ask what she's studying? Nah, superficial question. His lips purse as he licks his teeth and thinks, settling on, "Who's Courtney?"

Eyes watch in appreciation as he takes her gift. He was unlikely to notice, but she had payed cash for the shot. Maggi was brash, but not inconsiderate. The shot had not been his choice so it would be an unfair penalty to his wallet. Leon seemed to skirt around large concepts of his past without giving many details. Maggi wondered how many hits her own finances would take to make his lips a tad looser. She appreciated his commentary. If only he knew that most people would consider a large portion of her education worthless. That was one of the ugly details she would save for another encounter perhaps, unless he pressed.

A cheese fry is mid destination as she begins to giggle, cheeks gaining some color at his chosen question. "Courtney Love"." She continues to giggle. "Car is a mess and so was her namesake. Doesn't make either less impactful. I'm a bit genre obsessed with Rock and Roll." The admission only strengthened the connection to the Bowie tattoo, perhaps she had other inspirational tattoos.

She wouldn't mind him building a castle if it got him to take his shirt off...Oh God, had the actually thought that? A few more sips are taken from her glass, watching him intently. She was trying to pace herself, it had just been a while since she had relaxed this much. She wanted to tell him that he felt comforting in a way that she couldn't explain. That people in town were magnetic, that he was magnetic.

Oh, money changing hands was absolutely not what Leon had been paying attention. No, that was way too far north. As she lets him in on the joke, a palm is raised and careens off Leon's own forehead gently, his mouth open, eyes wide, a clear expression of self-deprecating awe, "How did I not guess that?" An actual short bark of a laugh escapes his lips as he shakes his head and moves back to the double elbow lean. He finally grabs another fry for a bite, deciding he'd savored the bourbon enough. Those fried carbs just called too loudly. Popping the morsel in his mouth after a brief drag through the red, still grinning as he asserts, "Good to hear you've got taste." He chews, then has to bob his head a bit side to side. He was seeming to loosen up. The shot had seemed to work, "Well, I mean, the Bowie tattoo already alluded to that." his hand briefly aims a finger at her wrist, he ponders quietly, "Maybe I should get a Rush tattoo..." His eyes narrow as he peers across at Maggi in thought, the Russian lifted to his lip for a sip.

It was itching at him, finally. He had been alright calling her Coyote Ugly, letting her keep the name. He was trying to figure out a way to get it now, his gaze maybe a bit too intense as the wheels begin to turn in a slightly tipsy mind.

"I'm not that predictable." One hand swirls the fruity drink into an amber whirlpool. The spiraling substance pools to her lip, the motion forced to a halt. He wasn't the only one who could play games here, she intentionally extends her hand to 'accidentally' grasp former potatoes at the moment he was wiping the bloody sauce from the plate. "Oops, sorry" a faux apology, her gingers brushing his, the salt on his fingers transferred to hers. She brings her finger to soft lips, pushing it past. Maggi suckles it longer than necessary, locking eyes with him as she does. The digit is removed at an even more painfully time ignorant pace. The glass is nearly empty, compensation taking place in the pink of her face. She did not redden in an unattractive way, lady-like, poetry inciting, innocent. It could be that she was blushing at her own behavior.

"Living in the year 2112 already?" The remark was meant to come across as as adept. She usually didn't care what people thought about her. The longer she spent around the chiseled man, the more she cared what he thought of her. Leon did seem like the Rush type. "I do like them, anything else you listen to or...only Rush?" This was meant to be a joke. Maggi found his focus enticing.

Her motion absolutely had the intended effect, drawing his attention, his words seeming pretty distracted in their flat, weak manner, "Mostly... just... Rush." When she was finished with the provocative motion, playing coy and innocent after, he finally blinks and shakes his head, like shaking a spell off, "Ok, that's totally not fair." he snorts a bit, looking around the table, "Like, how do I respond to that?" He picks up the red bottle and waves it, "Do I lick the top of the ketchup bottle sexily?" His eyes lock on the fries again, and his hand lifts, the index finger raised in a wait one moment sort of gesture. His thumb is pressed into the leftover salt from the plate. Slowly, he brings the hand to his mouth, seemingly quite intent on the digits. Gently, he curls the fingers into a fist while carefully tucking his thumb between his middle and ring finger. Now, his eyes lift to lock with Maggi as his face descends, chin tucked in, brows down, giving her 'The Smolder'. His mouth opens, breaths on the hand before his tongue comes up, swiping the salt from his thumb with an even, sensual lick, followed by a small closing of his lips over it to make sure any cheese still there was now gone.

After he was done, he can seriously only hold it together for a second or two more before the first amused snort breaks free, then he leans over in the booth, tucking his face in his elbow in shame as he laughs heartily.

Leon, almost speechless? She couldn't say she didn't like having that effect on him. Honestly she wouldn't have minded watching him lick the ketchup bottle, aside from the fact neither of them knew where it had been. Maggi enjoyed that he was playful, toeing the mark betwixt silly and sexy.

If he took himself a bit more seriously he might even be a bona fide hottie. The slow burn of his gaze and the flick of his tongue made her bite her bottom lip with gleaming front teeth...and just like that it was gone. Chortles spill forth from her as Leon hides. It's not like Maggi could simply tell him that his actions were working, not if he was going to make fun of what actions she had genuinely found attractive. Playing it cool? Her specialty. If he wanted to set back the intensity a few kilometers, it only made the distance between bases longer. She didn't have to sleep with him.

Maggi ceases her laughter and breathes slowly in from her nose, placing herself back into the moment rather than future timelines. The kick of vodka had settled in her mouth. The scent of dwindling cheese fries and smoke permeated the air. She was doing well, she kept going. She felt the pressure of the only moderately comfortable booth against her legs, the inner worn soles of her Martin's. In the rumble of noise she could make out a high pitch laugh two tables over. Lastly, she could see a crack in the same shape as a spiders web on the pleather behind Leon.She releases the air through her mouth, watching. Mindfulness helped in those small moments of being overwhelmed.

"You're a goof." The stemmed martini glass is taken up for another slow sip.

Even though he got kind of the gist of her reactions, what he had done had been just a tad silly, even for him. Finally able to reel himself back in, straightening, he grins across at her, a hint of color in his own cheeks, whether from embarrassment or the drink helping, anyone's guess. "Look, you wanna be enticing," his eyes do a quite down-up of her. Well, maybe not so quick once he got into the motion, eyes sliding back up her neckline, "You look damn good doing it. Me?" He taps his own chest in indication, "What do I do that can say, 'Look at me, I can rock your world.' Do I flex, do I do that lick thing the cringey kids are doing?" He pits two fingers in a V but has the class not to put it near his mouth.

"Nah, if you wanna find out how I use my tongue, it ain't gonna be something you see here in the middle of the Pourhouse." He meets her eyes again, a tad bit of challenge in his eyes, and totally clear confidence, an intense stare that dared her to defy him, "You'll learn it through experience." Whether he was talking about what she would experience or alluding to maybe what he hadbfor experience, he left it a little vague. She seemed to like vague meanings. He punctuates with another sip of his drink.

Leon’s words shut her up far faster than he had yet seen. Blue eyes grow wide enough to be called pools, perhaps even lakes. Shock wasn’t always a bad thing. Maggi didn’t particularly like being called out on trying, but she supposed it wasn’t so bad if he liked it. She was almost about to laugh at the absurd mention of ill behaved motion.

He had gotten real rather quickly after that, no time for giggling. Fingers tighten around the stem of her glass. She was borderline breathless at either interpretation of his phrasing. Realizing she was staring, all she can manage is finishing her drink.

She sets the empty glass down, undoing the knot of her hair. Both hands comb through her long locks both distracted and nervously. Maggi could not look him in the eyes for the moment, her heart skipping beats. She felt X-rayed, vulnerable.

"If..." he begins as he sets his glass down, crossing his arms and leaning on his elbows again. The ice clinked slightly, no more liquid to cushion its weight left in the glass. He had been nursing it quite liberally, and it was almost straight alchohol anyhow. The way he talked was a little slower now, taking more care, either from the drink starting to take more of a hold on him, or maybe showing actual concern for the vulnerability she was showing him, "...that's where you want this interaction to go." He eyes her with a raised brow across the table, eyes following that freed hair with appreciation, admiring the wildness of it, though it would hide the lines of her neck from his view. His own hand raises to brush along the side of his own head, a brief scratch made, though really an almost reactive mime he had to hide of his curiosity what it would be like to pull. "You got until we close the tab to tell me to fuck off." He resists the urge to wink, simply staring with a genuine grin on his face across the table at her.

She ponders him in totality, serious in her consideration. He is ruggedly handsome, his arms incredible. Leon was difficult to read meaning she couldn’t control the situation. The man was however, direct in his desires and in answering her questions. Former military, but he no longer belonged to them, seeming to have no wish to return. A certain amount of trust was required with him that she wasn’t sure she was capable of. The look in her narrowed eyes is shrewd. Maggi liked games and tests, several he had passed or skimmed to easily. He was giving her another phantom choice, she hated being thought of as predictable. She wanted to leave with him, but she also wanted him to work for it in some last way.

Reaching into the pocket of her all but forgotten jacket, she removes a pen, likely liberated without the permission of the grocery store it displayed. Placing a cocktail napkin before her, she begins to make deliberate lines and shapes in the ink. Without looking up she speaks to him impassively “We are gonna split one last drink. I’ll call a car if you grab a beverage. If you win before it gets here, we both get in it. If you want to that is.” The doubt in the last bit was evident. If she was going to trust him with her body for the evening, she needed to know he was going to like what he suggested going home with

Swiveling the paper to face him is a game of hang man: ‘ _ _ _ _ _ , _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ student’

A hand is put aloft to call for the waitress while looking down at the napkin in interest, brow raised, the wheels of calculation playing behind his eyes as he counts the spaces. This... This was how he finally got her name. His answer to her question? He instantly sets to trying to solve the puzzle. "R - S - T - L - M - E." That may have dated him just a little bit, but the ability of the puzzle solve from the Wheel of Fortune was just as useful today. The waitress had pretty much been ignoring them, and when she finally arrives, he was digging his wallet out of his back pocket, leaning forward as he watches whatever Maggi was going to fill in for him. He pulls out a credit card without looking, handing it over, "Gimme a really big water, to-go." What did he want to go home with? Someone who was slightly tipsy so they'd be open to a new experience, but lucid enough that they'd actually be able to consent and enjoy what he was going to do to them. Plus there was another good bottle of bourbon at home. He was also grabbing a twenty dollar bill to set on the table in view of the waitress.

His side of the bargain already held up in short order, he adds, "Then Vowels... A - I - O - U...." He was watching intently, no doubt slowly growing a grin as the blanks would be filled in, uttering curses as each new body part was added to the hangman.

Maggi had opened Uber up on her phone, putting her own address in just to be safe. She could always tell the driver that she had made a mistake if Leon still wanted to take her back to his place. She smiled at the water, they were only a couple shots in...then she remembered she was a college student and that not all adults measured their evening in liquor. Part of her almost felt bad for her shot glasses some evenings. Leon also had no idea of her tolerance, or the fact that on occasion she slipped some vodka into her morning coffee if she was hung over or especially apprehensive over the amount of work she needed to get done. In defensive of her massive student debt, the pacing with which she took classes was unlikely to be respected by any form of minimum wage snorefest. The interviewers always promised to work with you, and two weeks later you were covering more shifts than you were ever supposed to work.

The letter guesses were very 'Wheel of Fortune', making him older than she. That was all but given considering his nature, military service, and business ownership. How much older was damn near impossible to tell.
‘ M A _ _ I , _ A R A _ S _ _ _O L O _ _ student’

She grins at him, sipping the water placed on the table. 5 more minutes until the car was to the Pourhouse. Maggi might just pay the extra couple dollars to let the driver idle, she did enjoy Leon. She flips her hair to one shoulder and puts on her aged jacket. She had decided to forgo the hoodie, warm from the alcohol. So far a stick figure head and torso hung from the graphic school childs game.

"Olo..." He sounds out aloud, a big clue revealed, his mind working. His hand moves, the pinky slipping under the heel of her hand to lift it clear as soon as she was done writing, but still holding a bit with his ring. He was in this to win this. But also if gave him an excuse to leave his hand against hers if she allowed it. Thinking intently, his eyes lift to Maggi, squinting in consideration of her, grinning and rubbing his chin. "G - Y..." were his next guesses, not even bothering to wait for the G to be filled in. He was guessing at an -ology ending, clearly. He'd wait for her to fill in the blanks, but he was staring at her again, distracted by her hair. Fuck, he wanted to reach out right here. His hand curls into claws, then a fist covertly after briefly playing it off by scratching his bicep.

Patience, Leon. He tears his eyes away from her again so he can look at the puzzle. He actually has to stop here a moment, slowly breaking into a grin again as he can finally put a name to a pretty face. "Maggi. Short for anything?" Dammit Leon, don't get distracted, the prize was on the line! His eyes return to the puzzle at hand as he waits for an answer and he tries to figure it out.

The blanks are in fact filled in with bubbly looping letters. Her porcelain colored digit is soft to the touch in contrast to his more than likely rough finger pad. She does in fact leave it there, or more accurately, pretends not to notice. He may observe that the touch feels almost too warm. Fairly observant, she looks at him all but blamelessly with doe eyes. Finally something she could work with, driving him crazy. Pale shoulders stretch backwards, arching her chest, a faux stretch. The end of the pen is placed to the corner of her mouth, alluding to the actions those lips had taken earlier.

"Magdalena" she divulges, easing her shoulders. Her chest remains displayed, head cocked in challenge. If she could distract him long enough maybe he would lose before he could reject her for being a tinfoil hatter. He didn't have to believe as she did, she knew the truth. He did have that same weird magnetism though, the one for which she had no academic phrasing. She would think it was just how sexy he was but even the weirdo at the Pourhouse earlier that week hellbent on catching something felt that way. A hunch had never been wrong, they were connected.

' M A G G I, _ A R A _ S Y _ _ O L O G Y student '

His free hand was across his mouth now as he really has to grind his gears on this one, a sound, deep in his throat, a grunt of thinking, is issued from him. His brows pressed together in contemplation, his face lifting to compliment her, "Gorgeous name." was going to be his only comment, then, again, he was distracted by those cat-like stretches, calling attention to parts of her he was already fighting so hard to get at. Briefly, his bottom lip sinks inward, caught by teeth covertly as he is distracted. His eyes narrow just a bit, maybe seeing what she was doing, maybe thinking. Either way, the easiest choice to guess for a blonde-haired, blue-eyed white girl was on the table.

"P - C - H." Again, he wasn't waiting to see what she filled in. He knew it had to be Psychology. He had no idea he'd finish the puzzle, in face he was already trying to guess what letter could actually lead that word, thinking 'T' maybe... but.. that was already used, wasn't it? "What is... Para-? Psychology?" He had to sound it out, the feeling of the word strange on his lips, images of the study of the human brain while jumping out of airplanes seeming wild and crazy to him. Thankfully, the puzzle solved, and without stopping to celebrate, he had the time to really observe her a little more, in all her teasing glory. This was a good sign, no? It wasn't about winning or just taking the prize. He wanted to know more about her instead.

The iphone to the left of her hand gives a 'ping' indicating that the car was there. A shift in mood more to nervous is evoked in her. Were she able to see into his mind the anxiety would have been suppressed by his humor, alas she could not. "I'm going to use the bathroom really quick." She rips her hand from his without waiting for a reply. The black cased phone suddenly very interesting to her as she texts to the driver that she would be right out. This should give Leon enough time to google things and run she supposed, probably wasn't even worth looking up on her way out again. She did a mental check that she had everything she needed and headed to the dive bars ill sanitized ladies room. She didn't actually need to so much as she was trying to give him every excuse she could. Using a paper towel she dabs at her eyeliner and flattens her hair. Staring at her reflection she draws in a deep breath speaking directly to herself, "in thirty seconds you will at least look up to see if he is still here, but you won't be disappointed if he isn't." This is a lie, but she also didn't want to give herself false hope, she was a realist in many aspects, she just really believed she was psychokinetic. She pushes open the dingy door and glances at the booth.

The air literally felt cold to Leon as Maggi left. What was that? What did he say? She had wrote that. The emotions of confusion play across his face in furrowed brow and working jaw. Sure enough, his phone comes out, a quick google search, a Wiki link opened. It was like cold water washing over him from forehead, crown, and down the back of his neck. There was an empty spot in his stomach, and then there was rage. Fuck, was she playing him? He quit the military to stop using his gifts. No one should know about him. He'd never been discovered, thankfully, but... Could all those years be catching up to him...

Then the door was opened, and Maggi could see him, he was confused, but he was still sitting there. Confusion. Fuck, Leon, hold that, it works. "You ok?" he mouths over to her, going to rise, grabbing his jacket, playing the confusion card like this was any other strange woman behavior that big bad military boy couldn't figure out. Were she to approach him, he would look genuinely concerned for her, asking, "We can raincheck if you're not feeling up to task. I know there was a nasty flu goin' around a couple weeks back."

Maggi’s souring mood ceases to curdle at the edges. Leon was still here! A full on Cheshire grin extending the width of her face. Forgetting her internal dialogue of judgment, she reaches her hand to touch his. She didn’t try to hold it per-say, more let him know it was an option available to him. “Just didn’t expect to still see you here, night didn’t seem as interesting.”

Outside a gold sedan is waiting, the rain still falling. She opens the door for the both of them to slide into the back. The cloth seats smell of some cheap tropical air freshener and sweat. Letting Leon shut the door behind them, she wipes her face with the bundled hoodie. “I accidentally put in the wrong address, but I promise I’ll tip higher for the mix up!” She lies to the driver. “He’ll give you the right one.”