2020-10-14 - Job Interview

Getting an appointment with the acting Chief is no easy task. He said he'd meet with Magnolia yesterday, but then something came up, and he had to cancel, and he was apologetic in his terse way. And it was rescheduled for today. The uniformed receptionist says he'll be down in a couple of minutes, and to hang tight. And she watches the blonde as she gets on the phone with whom one presumes must be the captain himself. It's a brief conversation, but four minutes later, he does indeed buzz down. He's in civvies - a tee shirt, dark jeans and boots and a leather jacket - badge and gun and resting bitch face, and gestures for Magnolia to precede him through the blast-proof door and up the stairs. "Hola," he greets curtly. "Sorry about yesterday."

It has been too many years since Magnolia had to dress in anything beyond street clothes, and so it took a while to pull together something respectable-- gray slacks, a fresh blouse, and a squishy cardigan. She wears sensible shoes, having long ago given up trying to wear heels to offset her height. She's short, she's come to terms. She doesn't mind the constant eye contact, because Magnolia does what everyone does in this modern age of technology-- she plays another level of Candy Crush while she waits. Then she looks up when the door opens and out comes Ruiz. The phone is immediately tucked in her pocket, and she adjusts the fall of her father's old messenger bag to her back hip. "Hey, no sweat. I had a case to finish up, so it all worked out." She steps forward, and then steps past so she can cross the threshold and start up the stairs. The old leather bag is shoved back behind her as she walks, keeping it out of her way.

The ensemble's given a little once-over; her sensible shoes, in particular, are lingered upon, like he's wondering if she wore those in some attempt to be respectable. Judging by his own attire, that's unlikely to be a goal he himself aspires to. There's a twinge of something one couldn't quite accuse of being a smile, and then he shuts the door and follows her up. "Second door on the left, once you reach the hall," he instructs gruffly.

The office itself is not much to speak of. She may recall similar, if she ever visited her father here. It's smallish, even though they keep offering him the Chief's old space. There's a filing cabinet, a desk piled with paperwork and a laptop, a chair facing it and a potted cactus sitting on the window that faces the police impound lot. No pictures of family or loved ones; nothing to lend a personal touch to this spartan place. Just a few commendations and awards lining the walls. Reminders that, despite his manner, he's actually a more than competent officer who's put his life on the line time and time again. "Coffee?" he asks once they step inside.

Magnolia follows the directive easily enough, and she pushes into Ruiz's office with zero fanfare. She starts to heft off the leather messenger bag, dropping it beside a chair that she assumes to take, but doesn't right away. She instead takes a look around, taking in the details with hawkish focus even if it looks like she's just offering it a casual glance. Then to the offer of coffee, she nods. "Sure. Black's fine. Unless you like the dark and bitter stuff, then I can just add some sugar." She then takes a seat, popping open the flap of her bag to reach inside to pull out a simple file folder. She sets it in her lap.

"How's the gig?" She nods slightly out the door. "Surprised you're not in the big man's office." She remembers this place, now that she's pieced it all together.

He allows her to precede him inside, and shuts the door after them, muting the conversation in the hall to an indistinct murmur. His jacket's slung off as he comes around the desk, and pitched into his chair on the way to the sad excuse for a coffee machine he has sitting atop the filing cabinet. A couple of mugs are procured that look clean enough, and he starts brewing it up, with a rough chuckle when she mentions dark and bitter. "It's coffee. How the fuck should I know what kind it is? I don't buy it, I just grab a handful from the kitchen." He comes back around, gaze roving to the file folder on her lap.

"And the gig isn't all it's cracked up to be. My predecessor was murdered. Shot twice, once in the head and once in the throat. I'm sure you've read the news report by now. Just like I'm sure you know I've got to watch my own ass. I don't give a shit about having his office." He takes a lean against the edge of his desk, eyes on hers.

"Ah, so this is station coffee." Magnolia's amusement is impossible to miss, perhaps because she's unabashed about it. "Got it." She taps the folder on her lap once, then twice, and then she nods slightly. "Yeah. It's a shit gig. Dad said that he'd sell his soul not to sit behind the big desk. But, my dad didn't like being stuck in the station for any long period of time. So... I get it." She raises a hand in a placating gesture. Then she casts a glance back behind her briefly, and then back to Ruiz. "But, yeah. Checking your back is always encouraged in this shit show."

She breathes out a short exhale, leaning back in the chair as their eyes meet -- hers more blue and green mixed with some brown. Inconsistent, everchanging. There's something poetic there that someone could comment, someone who isn't Mags Jones. "Alright. My resume." She holds up the folder and then offers it up to him. "Graduate of the UW Criminal Justice program, first worked with a PI in Hoaquim before I landed my own agency on Spruce. I've got letters in there from a few clients, and Byron Thorne."

She's unabashed, and he's utterly unrepentant. The corners of his eyes crease with his amusement, and his arms stay folded across his chest; an interlinked scrawl of tattoos that don't belong anywhere near a Captain in the police force. Not on that scale. Not the ones on his knuckles that mark him as some sort of ex-cartel nasty. Assuming she knows her gang ink when she sees it.

"I'm.. I wish I'd been able to meet him," he settles on, a little gruffly, watching her eyes for a few moments. Then glancing at the resume as it's handed over. He unwinds his arms in order to reach for it, then flips it open and starts to peruse it idly while Magnolia talks. When Byron's name is mentioned, a flick of his eyes upward. Stillness for a beat, and then he resumes reading. "Why didn't you pursue something with the PD outright? Go through the gauntlet, become a cop the usual way?"

"Hey, never know in this place... you might." Magnolia's tone is all casual, maybe even a bit flippant. But more talk about her father isn't high on her todo list, so she moves on. There's other conversations to be had, like why the hell Magnolia is even here. She rolls back her shoulders a bit, reaching up to rub down along the side of her neck. "Well, about that..."

The blonde looks up at Ruiz. "I married an abusive asshole who did what most abusive assholes do and took complete and utter control of my life. We got married right out of college. By the time I got out of there, I had my kid to take care of and it was easier to get a PI license and try to make sure we didn't starve." There's nothing in her tone that suggests she's seeking sympathy. She delivers it as if she's giving the details to a report, like she's reading someone else's life story back to Ruiz. But it's hers, because there is something in her eyes that shadows and shifts with the details.

Sympathy's not asked for, and sympathy's not given; it's neither the time nor the place. Which doesn't stop him from watching her for a long moment, with something in his eyes. Something hard and sharp and hell, if that asshole had encountered Captain de la Vega, he might have found his ability to go on making Magnolia's life difficult.. severely hampered. Maybe by a broken nose or two.

He clears his throat, and turns back to the resume after scratching at his beard with a thumb. "Your current boyfriend's a reporter. Bit of a conflict of interest there, would you say?"

"Depends on the interest." It's a quick flip back at him, but Magnolia doesn't put much teeth behind the returned bite. Then she sighs out a breath. "He's not working for the Gazette. He's a junior investigator for the agency, and he helps me with case acquisition." Beat. "He's my receptionist. But even when he was working at the Gazette, he wasn't trouble for the PD. Guy likes his conspiracies, but he's got a good heart and there's not many of those left in the world, so let's cut the Care Bear some slack. He's literally just out there to do good, and he's the type that knows some of us have to get our hands dirty to do it."

She leans forward a bit, rubbing at her knuckles as she rests over her legs. When she looks up at Ruiz, her expression is serious despite all the threats of an incandescent smile.

"You tell me," is lobbed right back, his tone flat and unwavering; no real aggression or condescension behind it, but the way he watches her? Well, this is a man who's sat in the interrogator's chair countless times, and done god knows what else to men who've crossed him. He gazes at her steadily, then back to the resume in his hands, flips the pages a couple of times, clearly not poring over every detail of it. A few things stand out to him, and he squints slightly as he reads. Flips the page again.

"I'll have to run a security check on both of you, so I guess we'll see. Won't we." A brief tick of his eyes again, and that slight creasing of crow's feet at the corners, before he flops the resume closed, and tosses it onto his desk. "Tell me about your thoughts on Felix Monaghan."

There's a fleeting smile that passes across her almost cherub face, and then she huffs out a short breath. "Background check to your heart's content. I'm a Disney Princess." But then she is distracted by what is an almost enjoyable back and forth with that question. She grimaces, slumping back into her chair. "Goddamn Felix."

Her gaze flickers up at him. "I know he's got men in your station... and I know that this Reyes fucker does, too. I know that Felix has been playing it big in this town for a while, but maybe not so much anymore. Felix thrives on stability, and that stability is getting upset. It isn't even by you... it's by a player that follows, or doesn't follow, the same rules." She nods her chin up slightly. "So, my question is... does Felix want you in that seat, or does Reyes? Knocking off the Chief really doesn't do anything... Chief's already been around for this shit plenty. So, my guess is, Felix didn't make a move on the Chief and is pretty sorely pissed that he's not around to look the other way anymore." She juts out her jaw a bit. "Wouldn't call him an ally, but pretty sure you've got a bigger enemy to deal with."

A pen's withdrawn from the top drawer of his desk, clicked on, and tested in a quick scrawl on some scrap of paper he's got lying around. Then the resume is dragged closer, and he scribbles something on the top left hand corner of the cover page that may or may not include the words disney princess.

Then he listens to the rest of what Magnolia has to say, and looks thoughtful by the time she gets to the part about knocking off the Chief. He scribbles something else down, clicks the pen off. "Would you?" he queries, watching her steadily. "Call him an ally."

Magnolia crosses her arms at her chest, amusement warring with her attempt to stay serious and stoic. It's a hard game to play. Then she snorts out a short breath. "There are a whole fucking list of things I would call Felix Monaghan, but... enemy of my enemy, Chief." She looks up at him, eyes dark and serious despite the half-twitch at the corner of her lips. "Let's put it this way... Felix is a piece of shit and everyone knows that. Reyes, though-- I don't know what he is yet, but bad guy feels like the G-Rated version."

Then the PI sighs out a breath, loosening her shoulders a bit. "To answer your question... no. Felix is not an ally. Pretty sure that I'd be missing a few toes if his thugs had better aim. That Graham piece of shit and his buddy. Big guy." She broadens out her shoulders, trying to fill the space that Andre once did.

There's no answering amusement on the cop's face; his expression remains deadpan, one brow inched up a fraction when he spots that hint of a tug-of-war in the blond's mien. The tip of his tongue's pressed against the inside of his cheek, and pen and resume are set aside again as she finishes speaking. "El enemigo de mi enemigo sigue siendo mi enemigo," is what he offers, his voice a low, warm rumble.

Silence for a beat, his gaze flickering to the window, then back to the PI in front of him as she does her best impression of Andre. He chuckles. "The late Mr. Johnson." Some of his amusement dims at that. "And it's Captain. Not Chief."

Magnolia doesn't know much Spanish, but she catches enough familiar words to snap a little finger-gun at Ruiz. "Bingo." Then she looks aside, rubbing at her knuckles slightly at the name attached to The Big Guy, and she nods. "Yeah." Then her shoulders shrug slightly. "Captain. But we both know that Chief thing is probably going to stick at some point, like spaghetti thrown at the wall. Just gotta give it some time to cook a bit more."

Then she huffs out a breath. "I've been looking into the deaths of Latkowski and Jonas... the street thugs that worked for Joey Kelly. I know Blanchet has it on her desk, and I know right now it's all deadends."

The finger gun gets a tetch more amusement out of him; the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes light up, and he trails a glance to the little tic with her fingertips and knuckles. One of a few she's got, he's starting to learn. "Mm," is what her observation about his temporarily battlefield promotion gets. Spaghetti thrown at the wall. "I sure as fuck hope not."

Then she brings up those two thugs. The ones who lost their lives a couple of weeks ago; the ones who nobody's really come sniffing around about, and the ones who whose files were due to be tossed into cold case lockers any day now on account of insufficient evidence to prosecute. There's a little pause when she mentions them, like he'd been about to move on to some other business, and this had derailed his train of thought slightly. "Go on," is all he says, dark eyes steady; all trace of humour gone from his expression.

Magnolia crosses her arms at her chest, huffing out a short breath. She glances aside as if checking for someone pressing their ear to the closed door. Then she pushes forward a bit, leaning down into her knees on her forearms. "Might be nothing, might be something, but I don't have much yet. I got a solid lead from one of my sources that I'm chasing down... Reyes came from gang called the Red Scorpions from Vancouver way. Apparently he can't let the Scorpion thing go, because he's named his little splinter gang Free Scorpions." She rolls her eyes, because the whole naming convention is stupid as fuck in her opinion.

"I'm going to chase a couple more leads." Magnolia rolls her shoulders a bit. "Might be nothing, but feels like something worth looking into."

Nobody there. Just some intern several doors down, flirting with a Sergeant by the water cooler. They laugh over some joke and go their separate ways, and the captain continues to gaze steadily at Magnolia. "Tell you what. Why don't I put together what I've got on the case, and pass it on to you. And we'll see what you can dig up, yeah?" He reaches for his pen, and the notepad he keeps near his laptop, to scribble down a reminder to himself.

And then, after a glance at his watch, he enquires casually, "How's Monday sound?"

Man, lucky Sergeant. Magnolia would say something but she's too busy with her focus locked on Ruiz. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but the surprise that opens her features is impossible to hide no matter how cool and collect she puts on. She furrows her brows briefly as one last show of bemusement, and then she nods.

"Cool. Monday. I'll stop by, or send my errand boy." It'll be her that picks up the info, but there was an opportunity to call Kevin an errand boy. It was taken.

Cool. "Mm," is the sound he makes again, dark eyes all slanted up like he's trying to decode something about the blonde across from him. "Monday," he repeats, the word bouncing for the third time before he pushes to his feet and offers a hand. "Welcome to the PD then, Ms. Jones. Contingent on your security clearance, though I don't anticipate any issues, assuming you are in fact a fucking disney princess, and your errand boy is not in fact being monitored by the NSA." He manages to say that with a straight face, to boot.

Magnolia had no idea what kind of relief that brings her when Ruiz welcomes her to the PD. She stands from the chair, and she takes the hand with a firm grip that might be surprising in those slender fingers. "Hey... I hear Princess Leia is now a Disney Princess, so I'm totally in." Then she takes a step back, flashing a quick smile. "I'll see you Monday, Captain de la Vega. Thank you." There's a genuine gratitude in that, not colored by her usual acerbic dryness. She gathers up her leather messenger bag with her dad's initials tooled into the flap. Then she starts to take a step back, aiming to depart.

It takes him an embarrassing minute to place whom she's referring to. But then he figures it out, that she's talking about Star Wars, and he tries to smile, but it's a bit.. well. Wolfish might be an apt descriptor. Is he surprised at her grip? Not in the slightest. It's returned with a brief squeeze, also firm, though not overcompensating, before he releases her. "De nada," is offered in a low voice as he eases away in that lazy, prowlish way of his. Already settling in to get back to work. A flick of his eyes to the initials on her bag, then back to his laptop as he signs in.

"Your father would be proud," might almost be missed, just before she steps out.