sciencesaggressively | *bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do~ plays distantly in the background*

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kate

bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do~ plays distantly in the background

It had started out innocently enough, just a casual conversation with Kate on the topic of the envelope mystery. It's when she'd brought up the idea of getting ahold of the security footage that they'd both stared at each other, clearly coming to the silent agreement that they need to get ahold of the security footage. It doesn't take long for both of them to get changed--all black, of course, because that's what the movies always say is best--and rendezvous at the train station at 1800 hours during a convenient switching of the shifts at the information booth.

Newt tries to look cool, leaning against the wall nearest the empty booth as a few people pass him by--and he finds it kind of weird that they seem to be noticing him more than usual, or maybe he's just being paranoid. The door to the security room is just around the corner and the station is emptying out, so it's pretty much now or never. Well, never until the next shift change, whatever. He peers around the corner, failing to notice Kate coming up behind him, so when she taps him on the shoulder he can't stop the yelp that escapes from his throat, and he really wishes he'd bought that ski mask he'd seen at the store because his cheeks are awfully red right now.

"I thought you were the fuzz," he says even as his eyes crinkle from a wide smile and he leans over for a kiss. "I think we're in good shape to do this, you ready?"

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Newt wants to say that it doesn't have to be a lie but it feels like it might be too skeevy, especially since they're working on Very Important Undercover Business. Besides, he's eager to see what they can find on the tape, too, if anything at all, and the sooner they can get out of here, the better.

He peers into a drawer of the other cabinet, but its contents consist only of an empty manila folder and a pen. He cringes to himself at how loud the pen sounds clattering around in the quiet room, but he's pretty certain that nobody would have heard it from outside. "I'm good with that alibi," he says, coming up empty with another drawer. "Nothing in this one, either. Which, of course, begs the question, why even bother having this in here?"

He glances over at the TV again, zoning in on a camera that's focused directly on the information booth. "Sound," he murmurs to himself before turning to Kate. "Have you talked about doing this before? While you were at work maybe?" Maybe he's just being paranoid but is someone's watching, he doesn't see why someone can't be listening, too.

"Yeah," she says, looking in another drawer and rifling through the things left behind. Someone's half-eaten sandwich lies under a nearly black banana and she makes a face before closing the drawer again and turning to look at Newt. "Harley brought it up last time I saw him while I was working and I told him he was a genius and he asked me how I thought I was going to get my hands on the tapes and here we are." She kind of can't wait to tell Harley that she broke into the office, just to show him she can totally carry through with a plan, even if she's not sure what to do now.

She glances at the TVs and then back at Newt, her eyebrows lifted. "Do you think they heard me?"

She doesn't even know who they are, some nameless, faceless entities who run this city somehow and want to keep them from finding out anything that might ruin the mystery. But if they were able to hear her -- she's on the tapes, anyway -- then maybe that's why they can't find any of the tapes now that they're in here.

"Don't think I've met a Harley yet," he says, but he's looking in another drawer and stares at what's inside because what the hell, there's a tape but just the one. He reaches in to grab it, turns it around in his hands and finds that it's unlabeled before holding it up for her to see. "This isn't foreboding at all."

He leans against the wall, biting his lip as he stares down at the tape like it's going to start talking, give him all the answers he and Kate are looking for here. "I mean, somebody's watching, right? Do you ever see who's coming in and out of here during your shifts?" His eyes travel back to the cabinets, down their lengths and to the floor and just to the left of one of them is where he sees it, a distinct line between dust and clean floor, almost like... "Something's been moved recently." It's starting to get weirder than he's thought this would be, but it makes him all the more curious. "Is it just me or this starting to feel like one big conspiracy?"

"Security guards, mostly. They wander around the station, making sure no one's being an asshole, I guess, and I see them go in and out sometimes." She pauses, trying to think if she's seen anyone else, but she can't recall and the truth is, she's been paying so much attention to the envelopes that she hasn't paid as much attention to the door as she maybe should have.

When he looks down at the floor, she does as well, moving closer to see what he's talking about, but there it is, clear evidence something has been moved. Absently, she takes the tape from him and puts it in her bag, because there's no way in hell she's leaving a tape behind, even if it isn't labelled. There might not be anything on it at all, it might just be a spare that's been left lying around, but she's totally not taking the chance. Maybe it's nothing, but maybe it's something huge.

"Yeah, this is all super weird," she agrees, looking at him for a moment as she bites her lower lip. Nothing really makes sense and she's about to say as much when she hears the sound of someone at the door behind them. "Oh, fuck me," she curses, then reaches out to pull Newt toward her as fast as she can. Her heart is suddenly hammering and it's partly that they're totally about to be caught in here, but really, her story as to why they're in here in the first place is pretty fun.

Newt's scratching at his head because, okay, judging by the size of the dust line there, it looks like there'd probably been a third file cabinet. He doubts that any of them had been filled with tapes in the first place and maybe it's just a coincidence that something has been removed so close to the time they've broken in, but he just has the feeling that the evidence is pointing to the contrary. Either way, he's thinking they should probably get out of here before they really do get caught when Kate curses and tugs at his arm.

He glances at the TV screen and sees a guy--a pretty big guy, like the kind that would get hired to be a bouncer at a club, the kind who would have zero problem overpowering both of them--with his hand on the doorknob and shit, wow, a little more awareness on his part probably would have been nice because they're totally screwed but okay, yeah, now he's remembering the story Kate had planned on using. He flashes her a crooked smile. "If we get arrested, just know it's been a pleasure doing this B&E with you."

"Shh," she says, laughing as the door swings open and she wraps one arm around Newt, making sure to keep her bag pressed tight against her hip so that whoever's coming inside won't see it. Now that the tape is inside, it's kind of obviously shaped like a tape and she doesn't want them to lose it after they've worked so hard to get it. They're totally not going to get away with this, not when they're both dressed like criminals, but she's not just going to give up.

Not yet.

She backs up until she's leaning against the desk, then kisses him, tightening her arm around him and she really doesn't even have to try at all to make it look real. Kissing him is still just about the best thing she's been doing lately and she sighs softly, happily, just as the door slams shut.

Yeah, he's not opposed to this plan at all. Even with with the impending threat of almost certain legal trouble doesn't sidetrack from kissing her back, and he nearly laughs because this is so ridiculous but he can't lie, his heart's beating fast from the thrill and the sheer happiness of getting to kiss her again. It's not until the guy he knows is behind them clears his throat and asks them what the hell they think they're doing that Newt pulls away, giving her a quick wink before plastering on his most innocent expression and turning to look at the guard.

"Oh, shit, dude... Uh. Wrong room?"

When Kate starts to laugh, she doesn't even have to fake it, suddenly way more nervous than she thought she'd be. Especially since the security guard clearly recognizes her as he looks at her over Newt's shoulder.

"Hi," she says. "Sorry."

"You work at the information booth," he says and she nods.

"Yeah, it's just... you know how it is, right? You have a date, you want to impress them, you bring them to the locked room at your place of employment," she tries to explain and suddenly her story seems a lot less realistic. She reaches for Newt's hand, squeezing it lightly, although she's not sure what she expects him to jump in with. "It's totally hot?"

He tries to give Kate a stern look but how the hell is he supposed to take this seriously when she's laughing, and he's got a smile playing at his lips because this guard just looks so done with both of them.

"Yeah, nothing turns me on more than going into locked rooms, it's a thing," he says, and yeah, totally convincing. But not really at all, apparently, since the guard's walking toward them and grabs hold of Newt's arm and damn, that is a hell of a grip. "Dude, at least buy me dinner first, okay?"

The guard rolls his eyes and shoves Newt toward the door. "Get the hell out of here." He turns back to Kate, arms crossed over his chest and looking awfully smug. "I'm telling the boss about this."

"Ugh, whatever," she says, following Newt toward the door, still taking care to keep her bag with the tape against her opposite hip. The guard doesn't seem to have noticed and she's planning on keeping it that way. Except she can't just leave quietly, she's never been able to just keep her mouth shut.

"Now that you've exerted the tiny amount of power you're allowed, try not to get too excited about it once we're gone," she advises, reaching for the door knob, opening the door even as she speaks because she's totally going to lose her job now, she doesn't want to get her -- or Newt's -- ass kicked, too. "Also, I totally know you sit in here and watch me on the TV. Gross, dude."

Newt bites down hard on the insides of his cheeks to keep from smirking because the guard seriously looks like he's ready to knock them both out, his cheeks are burning red and Newt suspects that if this were a cartoon, there'd be steam blowing out of the guy's ears. He tugs on Kate's hand as he slips out the door, making sure the door shuts firmly behind them and giving a two-finger salute to the guy who's sitting at the information booth now.

It's not until they're a full block away from the station that he pulls her down onto a bench and starts to laugh hysterically, the result of a combination of adrenaline and nerves and well, shit, Kate had told that guy off and it had been awesome. Ok, there's the not-so-awesome part where Kate's almost definitely going to be handed a pink slip next time she goes in, but he thinks she deserves a lot better than this job anyway. "Well. There'd better be something on that damn tape, or I might lose my mind."

"So I'm totally getting fired," she says as she drops down onto the bench beside him, but she can't help it, she's laughing, too. They have a tape, although she has no idea what might be on it and now that she's had a little time to think about it, she really hopes it's not just a creepy compilation of all her shifts. It might actually be better if the thing is blank, especially if that's one of the other options. She'd been joking about the guard, but seeing how red he'd turned, she's not so sure she was wrong about it.

"What if it's nothing? What if it's completely blank, are you really going to lose your mind?" she asks, grinning at him. "Because if you are, we're totally watching this at your place, I'd like my giant flamingo to remain unbroken in the ensuing rage spiral you're going to end up in." The flamingo is still her pride and joy, the best part of her apartment, even though she thinks she's done a pretty good job with the rest of it.

"Okay, seriously, are we going to go watch this? Do you even own a VCR?" She's not sure she does, now that she's thinking about it. The apartment came with a TV, but she doesn't spend much time watching it unless it's on in the background just for the noise.

"You are, you definitely are, adios to the info booth." He groans, taking his glasses off to rub a hand over his face before he gives her a sidelong glance. He doesn't have the best feeling about the tape, is both eager and uneasy about watching it because he can't imagine that it was left there in that drawer on purpose, not when everything else had been taken away. Maybe it's blank, maybe it's been erased, or maybe there's something really, really creepy on it that's going to traumatize both of them for life.

"Only a tiny bit of my mind, not the whole thing, the part that's not like, super important. Just kidding, every part of the brain is important, that's preposterous. But I promise to never do your flamingo any harm, that would be near blasphemy." Her question about the VCR is what makes him drop his head onto his knees. "Wow, that would be useful, right? A VCR, I don't even know, does anyone have a VCR anymore?"

"There's a pawn shop near our building," she says, because she kind of goes in there a lot and has maybe decorated almost her entire apartment with things she's found there. She's realized a long time ago that she's never going to live somewhere with marble countertops and cool, clean lines, not only because she can't afford it, but because when she wanted that, she was pretending to be someone other than herself.

"They might have one. Because I'm pretty sure my place didn't come with one, which probably means your place didn't come with one either." On the other hand, she's never actually checked, so she can't be sure. "What if there's something totally creepy on there like the video in the Ring? What if we only get seven days to live after we watch it?" She's mostly joking, but even as she says it, she realizes she's not as excited to watch it as she thought she was. This entire place has been good to her for the most part and now that she's trying to unravel things she's a little nervous about pissing it off. If they delve too deeply into what's behind the envelopes, they might actually discover something and she suddenly doesn't know if that's such a good idea.

"Nice, okay, pick up a VCR and I'm not going to lie, I might do some more poking around because you saw my place. Interior decorating really needs work." Newt's not looking for anything fancy, no way, he considers Dimera lucky that he hasn't absolutely destroyed his place yet and that's only because he hasn't had any monster bits to toss around his living room. Still, since he's pretty sure he won't be finding a miraculous path out of the city anytime soon, he figures he might actually put a little bit effort into making it his own. He'd had vintage posters up around the lab, some bongos and instruments, comic books and action figures, and he wouldn't mind a bit of that for his new apartment. He doesn't know if it's weird to ask Kate help him with something so domestic, but... They're going, right? Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

He makes a face at the mention of The Ring, he very vaguely recalls seeing that way back when, but he'd been twelve when it had come out, and he'd ended up analyzing the hell out of the logistics of that girl crawling out of the television. "Well, if we're only going to have seven days to live, we should make it a really badass seven days, right?" He knows it's not a thing that's going to happen, obviously it's not going to happen, but what if it happens? He almost suggests that maybe they should just hold off, not even watch the tape at all, at least not before drinking heavily. But on the off chance that there's something on that tape that's actually worth seeing... Well, he can hardly resist that potential.

"If some creepy girl crawls out of my TV, I'm going to need like, all the alcohol in the world to deal with it," Kate says before she stands again and holds her hand out to Newt. "Come on, let's go buy a VCR and something so your apartment looks less like a prison cell." She's teasing, she'd actually liked his apartment just fine, but she thinks that may have been due to the fact that she likes him so much. Beyond the table and the couch, there's not actually a whole lot she remembers about his place and she completely blames him for that, for being so distracting and nice to her.

"But seriously, we're watching it on your TV now, because I'm just picturing a girl crawling out of mine in the middle of the night and I'm pretty sure I'm never going to sleep again," she realizes. "Not that I want her crawling out of your TV either, that'd be pretty shitty. Maybe we can convince someone else to let us use their TV." She's not sure if that's how it works, but she's willing to take the chance.

"That's the risk we're taking here. It's almost Halloween, we're practically asking for that to actually happen. I do have an abundance of alcohol at home, though, so we'd be covered." He takes her hand and pushes off the curb. "You won't lead me astray, right? I mean, you have a flamingo in your apartment, so I'm trusting your decorating skills." He's not even kidding, he's down with the flamingo. "Maybe I can find like, a dragon. Since kaiju aren't really a thing here."

"Well, I'm glad you have my personal mental health as a priority in your decision-making," he teases. He's pretty sure that it wouldn't matter whose TV they watched the tape on, if a girl is coming out of the screen, she's probably not going to pick and choose who she brutally murders based on who the unit occupant is. Then again, he wouldn't even be entertaining this idea if they had been anywhere else, but he supposes that at this point, he should probably expect that anything can happen. "So we knock on a neighbor's door and not tell them about this, right? Both our TVs are totally broken, so we need to borrow one for very important businessthat they can't be a part of. Sounds legit to me."

"Yeah, no one's going to fall for that and there's no one in our building I really dislike enough to send a creepy TV demon after," she says, thoughtfully, heading in the direction of their apartments. There used to be that one woman who lived on her floor and was really nosy, but she seems to have moved out and Kate likes pretty much everyone else she knows in the building. There's no way in hell she's going to drag Reggie or Nick into this.

"So maybe we just get drunk." And that way if there is something super unsettling on the tape, she'll be able to deal with it better or she'll just care a lot less. "But that still means we need to get a VCR first. The pawn shop's just up ahead, they'll have something and I totally won't lead you astray with the decorating, my mom is an artist, I have a very keen eye or whatever the hell it is they call it."

She doesn't know a damn thing about art, just what her mother's tried to teach her over the years, but Kate's never much listened. She likes what she likes, regardless of what other people think, and she's pretty sure that's the way to go when it comes to decorating.

Newt almost suggests knocking on Chuck's awful neighbor's door but eh, seems a little too cruel of a hypothetical punishment to send her way just for giving them the evil eye. He can admit to the fact that he'd maybe been a little louder than usual but it had only been because he'd wanted so badly to tell Chuck about his first date with Kate. He agrees, though, he can't think of anyone in Dimera that he's met who he'd be happy to see a murderous ghost girl kill.

"Drunk, yes, good." He can get on board with drunk, maybe drunk will mean he can stop entertaining the notion that a video tape that causes the death if its viewers in seven days is a thing that actually exists. He's always had a creative mind, has been able to think outside the box, but he's gotta make Kate responsible for this particularly thought process. Though when she says that thing about her mother and art, her imagination suddenly becomes much clearer to him. "Your mom mom or one of the, uh-- the alters? Because if it's one of the alters, I might suddenly get very suspicious about what kind of stuff I walk away with today."

"No, dude, my real mom," she says with a laugh, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow as they walk. "My mom's the only part of her that actually did anything. Shoshana is the only alter who ever bothered to pretend she had a job and she really just sat around and talked about nothing. My mom's an artist. She paints and does sculptures, stuff like that. She's really good, actually, but she didn't get the chance to do it much when she was transitioning so often. She wasn't exactly super reliable."

She pauses for a long moment, then grins again as they enter the pawn shop. "Plus, one time when she was doing this mural for this woman, one of her alters took a knife and scratched 'die yuppie cunt' on in, so, you know, people were kind of reluctant to hire her after that." It makes her a little sad, knowing how important that mural had been to her mom, but it's not like it's the only terrible thing the alters have done. "But even if one of the alters was the artist, I still have totally great taste."

He grins and holds his hands up in mock surrender before rubbing at the spot she'd elbowed, giving her his best pained look. "Just checking! Shoshana, the psychiatrist, right? Jesus, I'm curious what she would have said about me, wonder if it would match up to what other idiots have tried to say." Ooh, he wishes he hadn't said that because it makes it sound like he's had people shoving diagnoses down his throat for ages but maybe she hadn't caught it. "Very cool, with the painting and sculptures, though. You're not big on the art thing, then? I was so going to ask you to design my next tattoo, what a bummer."

A bell rings when the door to the shop opens, and he pokes at a rusty-looking copper sculpture of an ostrich that greets them in the threshold. "Wait, what? Wow, that's all kinds of messed up, your poor mom." He picks up a delightfully ugly lamp with a six-inch tall owl at the base except covered in fake feathers and with two giant yellow eyes above its beak. "Are your artsy senses tingling? Would your mom approve?"

Edited 2013-10-31 04:22 (UTC)

"Yeah?" Kate asks as she pokes around on some shelves. She loves this place, mostly because she's never sure what she'll find in here and she knows they're looking for something specific right now, but she can't help it. "What have other idiots said?" Maybe it's completely not her business, but he'd brought it up, and it's not like whatever he has to say will be any worse than what she's dealt with basically her whole life and if he doesn't want to tell her, he can just not tell her. She's okay with that, at least for the time being.

She laughs at the lamp, then shakes her head, reaching out to touch the feathers. "No way," she says. "Definitely not for you." She's not sure who might want that in their apartment, but as much as she likes weird, tacky stuff, she's not sold on the owl lamp for Newt's place and definitely not for hers either.

Instead, she picks up a framed picture of a little Victorian girl with a basket of flowers that looks like it's about a million years old. "God, this is terrible, too. There's a lot of really bad stuff here today." Which is really part of why she loves it so much.

Oh, well, of course she'd caught it. Newt supposes he should have known better than to hope she wouldn't, but it's not like the psych asshats at the PPDC had ever been successful in smacking a legitimate diagnosis on him, so he figures he might as well share. "Okay, so... When I got recruited to the PPDC, I had to take a psych eval, right? Whatever, fine, I already told you that I hate psychiatrists, but this team, I don't know. I think I pissed the guy in charge off or something because every time another eval came up, they tried to say I was manic-depressive, which I'm so not, okay? I'm a little hyperactive sometimes and I talk a lot and I don't sleep for days when there's stuff to get done sometimes but that doesn't make a person manic. You don't slap a label like 'manic-depressive' on someone just because a few signs are there."

He takes a deep breath, realizing that he's gone into ranting territory and picks up a dusty pair of binoculars only to put them right back down. "Anyway, they never made it past saying I was just borderline manic, so whatever. It's a thing and now you know it, not even a big deal, right?" He'd never thought so, had never sought help or anything like they'd suggested because he hadn't needed it, but he's also used to people trying to drive-by diagnose him that who don't even come close to having a psych degree. Which is totally a bullshit degree anyway. He doesn't think Kate will do that, but the fact that it's out there now is giving him just a little bit of anxiety so he gives her a big smile before zeroing in on a vintage music box.

"How 'bout I get this and then I can hang that flower girl on my wall. Maybe get some cracked porcelain dolls. Creepy enough to make the girl crawling out of the TV right at home."

"Don't you have to have like, depressive episodes to be considered manic-depressive?" she asks, still moving things off shelves, looking at some of the pictures. He does have a lot of energy and he does talk a lot, but so does she on both counts and no one has ever called her manic-depressive, although she's sure it's probably one of the many things Shoshana has secretly slapped on her. "I mean, my knowledge of mental illness pretty much begins and ends with DID, but still."

She turns when he looks at the music box and crosses to where he's standing. For a second, she looks at it, nose wrinkled, then shakes her head before she leans into him and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Hey, I don't care," she says. "I mean, I care about the music box and the porcelain dolls, because that shit is creepy and I'll never come over again if you do that, but I don't care about all the other stuff. My mom was split into at least four other people my whole life, so..." She trails off and shrugs. "I like you, whatever a team of douchey psychiatrists have said, but seriously, no creepy dolls, that's where I draw the line."

He turns back away from her, narrowing his eyes but pretending to be very interested in a dusty old globe. He's momentarily distracted when he wonders where on this globe Darrow would fall, if it would even fall on it at all. Oh, but right, manic bullshit and all that. He remembers hacking into the PPDC system to see his file, remembers seeing the long list of reasons why he'd been marked as "borderline," whatever that even means: displays signs of grandiose notions, increased talking speed and volume, inappropriate social behavior (which Newt is still convinced had been referring to his invested interest in the kaiju), inappropriate irritability, increased energy, poor judgment, severe insomnia... Hermann had caught him peeking and had shrugged like he'd agreed, and that had set Newt off all over again.

"I mean, yeah, so sometimes after a nasty fight with my lab partner or like, a rough meeting with my boss, I'd get into a little bit of a funk, but it wasn't depression." He's feeling tense now, and it's not because of her, he doesn't mind talking about it with her. Not that there's anything to talk about because he rejects the idea that he's borderline anything but awesome, but whatever. Then she's kissing him on the cheek and telling him she doesn't care, like none of it matters, and the tension's leaving his shoulders because she likes him and that's what matters.

"No dolls. No music box. Roger that." He points at a set of bongos and holy shit, what are the odds that this place has bongos? Stoked. "That's a solid yes, though. If you're not good with those, ooh, I don't even know how this is going to work." He winks, nudging her with his elbow. "Thanks, though. Really."

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