No More Rhyming, Now I Mean It


Colin_icon.gif Moxie_icon.gif

Summary: After getting her arrested, Colin bails Moxie out. Laughter and bad poetry abounds.

Date It Happened: December 15, 2001

No More Rhyming, Now I Mean It

Police Station, later the Caird Estate

Jail is double plus un-fun. Fortunately Moxie is kept separate from any adult prisoners because of her juvenile status, but still that just means she's put in with the bad kids, many of whom have some prior experience with being arrested and put here. One girl who smells like cigarettes and has lots of facial piercings has already taken to staring at Moxie as if she has something she wants, or maybe is doing something wrong. But metal-face girl isn't saying a word. Just staring. They're all in together in a common room with some cots and not much else, about six others along with Moxie, the scary robber.

It's been hours.

Moxie took up residence on one of the cots, drawing her knees up and crossing her legs at the ankle, those spindly arms wrapped around the whole package like she's literally trying to hold herself together. Other than rocking slightly, causing the cot to make a quiet but repetitive squeaking noise, she hasn't moved or spoken a word, maybe trying to remain invisible. She pointedly ignores the stare of the ashtray girl, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor in front of her bed, other than a periodic glance up to see if she's still being watched.

Oh, she's being watched all right. Practically looked through. It's been going on for a while when the door bolt outside the cage opens with a loud SLAM and then swings inward. A big cornfed looking jailer walks in with keys while another jailer stands at the door. "Dillingham!" he calls, jingling his keys. "Front and center!" Like it's boot camp.

Moxie sweeps down off the bed in one fluid move, as if she's been expecting this - though it's really more just her being eager to get out of here. She doesn't look at the staring girl as she slips past, stepping up to the door and lifting her hand, as if this were role call in those classes she doesn't go to. "Yeah? That's me."

"Someone's bailing you out, princess." Princess. They've been calling Moxie that since it was determined she was a first-time offender and the cracks about being daddy's little princess started. No, they are not nice here. Even if that particular remark probably cut to the quick on the girl, they still used it. The jailer opens the cage and stands there watching the other occupants along with his backup at the door. "C'mon out."

Moxie looks confused by this bit of news, but she just sets her jaw against the nickname and hurries out of the cell. Only once free does she take a moment to puzzle over this bit of mystery. Who the hell would be bailing her out? She thinks better of asking if they've got the right girl - let them realize their mistake after she's long gone. "Okay, so, uh, which way's the exit?" she asks, eager to be on her way.

"Well if you pay attention and quit asking stupid questions," chides the jailer roughly, pointing at the other jailer waiting at the door. He closes the cage behind Moxie.

This situation transitions to the processing area, which features what looks like a bank teller window with another jailer behind it. There Moxie is introduced to a jaded-looking middle aged social worker lady who's got a bunch of papers she wants Moxie to sign and initial, largely concerning what belongings were confiscated upon arrest and receipt of their return. Pretty much anything that was in her pockets when she came here. After that's done with she's given a plastic bag full of her knickknacks and directed toward a door that leads into a lobby.

And there is waiting Colin Caird, arms crossed, busily filling out other paperwork on the counter for the Sheriff's Deputy behind said counter. He (Colin) glances up to see Moxie and says casually, "Had fun in there?"

Moxie rolls her eyes at the jailer's abrupt answer, feeling a little more cheeky now that she's on this side of the bars. She makes her way over to processing, fidgeting a little as she makes her way through the paperwork, anxious to just get out of here already. Since mostly what she had in her pockets were the Pax Ray, which was disappeared, and then the cash, which she's not exactly welcome to keep now, her bag is largely empty as she steps out into the lobby, pulling out those oversized sunglasses and perching them atop her head, and then cramming the other few things back into her pockets. She stops dead at the sound of Colin's voice, looking up and giving him an incredulous look. Before answering his question by promptly busting out into a fit of rather raucous giggling. That's a yes then?

The jailers, deputies, and Colin all take a moment to stare at Moxie while she giggles. Loudly. They glance at each other. Colin shrugs and looks mildly at a loss for words, then initials the last form, sliding it across the counter.

"All right, Princess. You're free. Get outta my house." the deputy behind the counter says roughly, pointing at Colin.

The Scot is in much more professional (and less crazy) wear than he was last night, opting for a sport coat and slacks. He fishes some car keys out and says mildly and with a bit of concern, "Come on. I'll take you home."

Moxie takes a few deep breaths, trying to get the laughter under control, but to no avail. She seems almost annoyed about this, even as she's doubled over, holding her stomach. She straightens up to try and give the deputy a dirty look, but it's hard to sell when she's still laughing. "You… You got me into this mess," she manages to get out between giggles, pointing accusingly to Colin. The jail-like mess, anyway. The laughter is- Well, she's not sure what's up with that. She covers her face, laughing into her hands, as she starts in the general direction of the door.

Colin gives a concerned look to the deputy behind the counter, who returns the look with a shrug. "I seen worse, dude." he says to Colin.

Colin just nods distractedly and waves for Moxie to follow him, walking toward the door while looking over his shoulder at the girl. "Are you all right?" he asks once they're outside, using his keyless remote to make a silver BMW go chirp-irp and flash its headlights.

Moxie manages to get out through the door without walking into anything, though it's helped by the fact that her giggles are now dissipating. A few more deep breaths and she manages to wrangle them under control, now scowling. "I'm /fine/. For someone who's been stuck in jail because you had to call the cops," she grumbles, though she's looking a little more weirded out by the laughter than she wants to let on. The car gets a quick glance and then she gives him a flat look. Must be nice.

"I didn't know who you were! I just knew you could have had VERY dangerous weapons. I ought to know, I made them." explains Colin, not seeming to notice the look Mox just gave him. He gets in the driver's seat.

Oh, and it's one of those atrociously clean, spotless, nice new cars. You know. The kind that almost seems like a rental because there's absolutely no sign of fast food junk in there? And no wrappers or receipts or anything on the floorboard. The kind of car that screams I Am Either A Cleanfreak Or Someone Else Around Me Is.

"But I am sorry you got arrested. And that's why I posted bail and got you ought. I'm told you have a court date in a month. If you'd like, I'll help you with that too, all right?" See? Colin's apologetic!

Moxie is a little wary of the fancy automobile, but she clambers in, not exactly having a whole host of other options right now. "So you /make/ dangerous weapons and get me arrested for having them? Nice. Real nice." No, she's not going to make this easy on him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. "I don't get it. Now you want to help me out?" All traces of laughter seem long gone, and she's even being extra sullen to make up for it.

"So you /steal/ dangerous weapons and then act indignant when you get in trouble with them?" retorts Colin briskly. Oh no! He was prepared for this one. "I didn't make you try to rob that store! You're lucky I confiscated the Pax Ray before the police arrived. And you NEED to tell me where the other items are before someone worse than you finds them." That part's accompanied with a pointing finger. Colin starts the car and pulls out. "Where do you live? I'll drop you off."

"I didn't /steal/ them, you /left/ them there," Moxie points out, well, indignantly. Even if she did sort of suspect he might come back to collect them later. "Finders keepers, dude." She slouches back in her seat, not bothering with her seatbelt. Livin' on the edge, this one. "Why should I tell you anything? You almost got me shanked or something." She scowls out the windshield before finally relenting a little, "South Central."

"Because if you /don't/ tell me." says Colin mildly, "I'll scan for their energy signatures and find them anyway, and you might end up in jail again. And I don't want that. It's a lot more work to do it that way, and you can save me considerable time." He drives. And they move.

"Christ, you're such a narc," Moxie informs him, fiddling with one of the A/C vents, not because she's too warm or cold, but just because she's feeling a little antsy after that time cooped up. "Anyone ever tell you that you're very not cool." Being lectured by a 15 year old who's trying to stall and avoid the issue, there's a fun evening.

There's a silence after that and Colin admits, carefully, "…yes?" Not much in the way of snark coming off of him.

Moxie heaves a sigh, slouching further down in her seat. It's hard to argue with someone willing to admit defeat. "Yeah, not a surprise," she just mutters instead, watching out the window for a moment before coming to the realization that the answer can be put off no longer. Not like her life of crime was working out so well anyway. "/Fine/, I've got them. I mean, not on me, but … I can get them. For a price." Of course.

That seems to amuse Colin. "A price?" he chuckles, "How much?" He glances at Moxie as he drives, grinning. "Where are your parents?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? They're not around, okay?" Moxie replies defensively, glancing over at him with a dark look before turning back to the window, having to consider the matter of price for a moment. "A thousand bucks," she finally decides, a slight edge of challenge to her tone.

"So if I give you one thousand dollars you'll give me the items back? Promise." tests Colin, as if that'll seal the deal. They get in a bit of traffic but it's not too bad. "And who's everyone? You're alone?"

"Sure," Moxie promises with a shrug. "So long as you don't call the cops again." She glances over at him, rolling her eyes just a little. "/Everyone/ everyone. Look, whatever. I can take care of myself. I just need some cash and there aren't exactly a lot of places hiring right now." Plus she's fifteen, which probably doesn't help.

Colin's quiet at that prospect while he drives. "So where am I driving you to?" he asks again. Although there's an impression he's not just asking for location.

Moxie gives the address to a borderline-condemnable building in the neighbourhood. "I'll get you the stuff, you get me the cash, every- everyone-" She suddenly has some trouble getting the words out through the laughter that wells up abruptly, and then she's giggling wildly again. "Everyone's /happy/," she manages to get out, finding this especially hilarious from the sound of it. "What the hell is wrong with me?" she asks, but the laughter makes it sound more like a joke. Because, really, where do you start?

"What the hell indeed. It's like you're high on weed." observes Colin. And that confuses him. "That's the second time you've laughed and it seems entirely daft." Blink. Colin begins to pull the car over to the side of the road. "Hold it a tic. Need to stop right quick…"

"I'm not high!" Moxie protests, meaning to sound indignant but just sounding like she finds the very idea hilarious. She leans forward, crossing her arms over her stomach, which is beginning to hurt with this full out laughter. "/You're/ daft," she adds, not even sure what it means, and of course, this just gets more laughter. She manages to lift her head, her eyes beginning to water a little as she tries to figure out where they are and why he's stopping here.

"Are you laughing at what I say? Because it's not funny okay?" Colin brings the car to a stop on the side of the road and puts on the emergency flashers. He makes a fist and bites his lips.

"I'm not even laughing at /you/," Moxie replies, rolling her eyes as the laughter finally begins to fade. She takes a few gulping breaths and straightens up. "Ow, my stomach," she grouses, before looking over at him. "Where the hell are we? Don't get any crazy ideas. I'm not that desperate for cash."

"You've nothing to fear, for my intentions are not queer." Beat. "I didn't mean it that way, what I meant to say was that you're quite safe with me. I'm a lawful person, see. MMp!" Out of frustration Colin hits the steering wheel with his fist. Then stares at Moxie. Then looks around. Gestures toward the glove box. Makes Open It gestures.

Moxie arches an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous look, since in her vernacular, 'queer' only really has the one meaning. Considering that, she seems wary of even opening the glove box, like she expects some sort of poisonous gas to come spewing forth and knock her unconscious so he can do whatever evil he has planned. But she finally does lean forward and flip it open, cautiously.

Inside the glove box are the typical maps, proof of insurance, and whatever. Colin leans across Moxie's lap to dig in there, finding a sheet of paper that was a receipt for a vehicle inspection. And a ball point pen which he also grabs. And then he writes: I can't help the rhyme. It happens every time.

"Maaaah…" he cries in frustration, scribbling out the words.

Moxie scooches back in her seat as he leans over her, still really not trusting his intentions here. When he just comes up with the paper and pen she looks confused. Which isn't reduced any when she reads the note he's written in rhyme. "Seriously? /Now/ who's high?" she points out.

In frustration, Colin wads up the paper and gives Moxie a dark look. Then he puts the car in gear and drives. Saying nothing. Glancing at his passenger. Looking at the road. Shaking head. He decides to test it. "Weigh." he says. Mutters, "…neigh." Wince.

Moxie gives a snicker at that, though this is borne of her own amusement and doesn't dissolve into those giggles. "Are you messing with me?" she asks, arching an eyebrow and giving him a considering look. "Because I gotta say, I don't get it. You're not going to trick me into giving you the stuff for free."

"Horse." Colin says, testing again. Waits. "I think it's passed." He glances up and at the dash, briefly over his shoulder to the back seat as he drives. "Is there some reason you break into laughter and I just had a…very weird episode?"

"/I/ don't know," Moxie replies, as though this is an annoyingly stupid question. "Maybe one of your stupid gizmos did it," she tacks on after giving it a brief moment's thought. "This whole damn month has just been one weird thing after another." She gives her head a dark shake with an expression that suggests the weirdness is more often bad than good.

"Yes. I know." remarks Colin sullenly. Like he's been privy to quite a bit of weirdness as well. They start to near the address Moxie gave, but Colin seems hesitant about something. "Are you going to be all right? Because quite frankly this does not look like a pleasant neighborhood."

"Well, I wouldn't park this car here, if that's what you mean," Moxie replies with a smirk, giving the spotless interior a once-over. "Really, you should probably be careful even stopping." It's hard to tell if she's just messing with him now or not as she peers out the window. "But me, I fit in here," she adds with a shrug.

Colin looks straight ahead for a moment, clearly mulling something over. Then he asks, "Would you like to see where I live?"

"Look man, I already told you, I'm not into that sort of thing," Moxie replies almost wearily. "Thanks for the bailout and all, even if it /was/ all your fault in the first place." She almost managed sincere for a moment before making a U-turn back to difficult.

"Tell you what. I'll make you a deal." suggests Colin, "If you look where I leave, you won't have to steal anymore things from me or someone else for that matter. And you won't end up having to listen to my chatter." His look deadpans. "I'm doing it again. This is truly a pain…"

Moxie looks skeptical of this deal, but it's hard to find a man speaking in rhyme altogether threatening, so she figures if it gets lame, she'll just split. So with a sigh, she waves her hand graciously. "/Fine/, let's see your place. I think someone's gonna jack your car you hang around here any longer, anyway." She turns back from the window to give him a thoughtful look. "You're /really/ not doing that on purpose to mess with me?"

Frantically shaking his head, Colin pulls away and drives. "I promise you it's quite true. In fact I think if I try hard enough to find words that don't rhyme like orange or stupid it just changes the format of words and stuff or else uses close ones that make rhyme to the lucid." At this point he just sighs in resignation. "At least I can be understood. If I were acting like you it would be no good."

"Hey, teenage girls are /supposed/ to giggle, okay?" Moxie informs him defensively. "At least I don't sound like Dr. Seuss on an off day. Dude, you should totally start talking about green eggs and ham and see what happens!" she decides in a fit of inspiration. "I'm sorry, but that is way weirder than laughing," she informs him, not sorry at all.

"That giggling seems insane. You might have a problem with your brain." suggests Colin, trying to pay attention to driving. "For all I know I might as well. If it doesn't let up this will be sheer Hell."

"You /definitely/ have a problem with your brain," Moxie agrees with a wide eyed nod. "My brain's just fine. Maybe it was just nerves or something. I never been arrested before." She shrugs, trying to feign some indifference but not quite making it there.

"Whatever you want to say. I can tell you've had a horrid day. I know if it were me in jail I'd be thankful for any bail." Yes, Colin's pretty much resigned to it now. He'll just ride it out.

"Look man, you don't know anything /about/ my day or how horrid it was, so don't tell me what to be - to be…" Aaaand here come the giggles, though Moxie quickly gets out: "To-be-thankful-for." It lacks the same oomph though. She claps her hands over her mouth, trying to physically stop it, but the giggles just won't be stopped.

"Can't help it, can you? And there's nothing you can do." observes Colin, muttering to himself, "You're coming back to my lab, this problem needs solving. The longer I speak to you the more it's evolving…"

"Your lab? I'm not some sort of science experiment!" Moxie tries to complain, but it comes out with gales of laughter so it just sounds like another not-so-funny joke. She wipes the corner of her eyes, her heavy makeup smudging a little. "Don't try to pin this on me. Maybe the cops did it!" That gets a new peal of laughter.

"Labs are not for experiments alone. They're places where one can finally hone a question down to its core elements and solve it with logic and diligence." Colin scowls and drives in silence for a moment. His silence anyway. The girl next to him is losing her mind.

"/What/?" Moxie has a little trouble following the rhymes through her laughter, though it's beginning to fade again and she's able to take some much needed deep breaths. "You can hone whatever questions you want, but you're not sticking me with any needles." She has to draw the line somewhere, and needles seem a good place to do it.

"Whyever would I need needles? I'm not some barbarian! I'm a Scientist!" One can hear the capital S. And Colin's not rhyming anymore. "Oh thank God it's stopped again. No, I assure you I'd have completely nonintrusive scans. And I'll be performing them on myself as well. It's obvious both of us have a problem and the only question is whether they're related. I suspect they are, considering we only noticed them after meeting today."

"Fine. Just make the laughing /stop/," Moxie demands, rubbing an arm over her poor stomach. "I can't take much more of it. I don't /giggle/," she states flatly, now right back into her more usual dour mood. "I'm just glad you didn't try to rhyme 'nonintrusive'. You might have hurt yourself." That, at least, gets a smirk. But no giggles!

It soon becomes clear they are headed to the NICE part of town. Not just nice, but the rich, stupid-rich part of town. The neighborhoods where the movie stars and plastic surgeons and bigshot lawyers live. Colin seems to think nothing of it, but he's certainly driving a car appropriate to the neighborhood. "I'll do my best. I won't know until we've identified the problem exactly, but fear not."

"Who's fearing anything?" Moxie points out, though the vitriol has died away somewhat in her distraction at her surroundings. "/Wow/," she states as they drive past an impressive home. "You really do have more money than brains, don't you." It's not said /meanly/ exactly - he must have a LOT of money. From the look on her face, it's questionable that she's ever even seen these houses in person and not just on TV.

"Remember, you agreed to one thousand dollars already." remarks Colin with a smirk, reminding Moxie lest she up her price suddenly. He probably has ten thousand in his wallet, the jerk.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Moxie replies, looking back over at him with a roll of her eyes, before getting that gleam again. "But we never set a price for studying me," she points out, the sudden entrepreneur here. "I mean, even pharmaceutical companies will give you /something/."

"I suppose I could just send you on your merry way and leave you to laugh until you die?" guesses Colin mildly, pulling up to a mansion with an open gate.

"Ha ha," Moxie says dryly. "Gee, when you're not stuck rhyming, you've got quite the wit." She rolls her eyes, sinking down into a sullen silence to watch out the window as they reach what she presumes to be his estate. Yeah, like another grand would /really/ kill him.

The car pulls up. Colin turns it off, gets out. Walks up to the front door and it's quite unlocked. "Come along, then. I've only recently repaired the damage your friend the cat burglar did. Surely you remember her from the park." The girl Colin accused Moxie of being in league with.

Moxie clambers out of the car once it's stopped, looking up at the place with wide eyed wonder before she gets ahold of herself and turns it back into a scowl. "Yeah, I remember her. With the monkey thing. Maybe if you locked your doors and didn't forget your stuff, people wouldn't be stealing from you all the time," she points out as she follows him.

"Maybe. But then I wouldn't have had the opportunity to get to know you and you're stunning personality." Colin stops at the door and pulls mail out of the slot next to it, checking. There's something from the power company. "Hm. Another check from the power company." Check. Not a bill? He steps inside, tossing most of the mail aside. Gold and platinum and diner's club card offers. Apparently he doesn't want em. "Stretch!" he calls, standing in the foyer.

Kastomp kastomp kastomp kastomp comes the noise from an adjacent room. And an honest-to-Tesla robot appears. "Good day, Master Roger. Who is the guest?"

"She's…" Colin stops to think and looks at Moxie. "What IS your name anyway?"

"You're hilarious," Moxie replies flatly when Colin points out her winning personality. "And for someone who claims not to care about getting robbed, you sure do take it awfully personally when it happens." She crosses her arms over her chest, not quite sure what to do with herself in these surroundings. She's completely out of her element. And that's /before/ the robot shows up. She stares at it for a long moment, not answering Colin directly. Finally, she stirs with a shake of her head and looks over at the man. There's a beat where she clearly considers giving him an alias, but really, what's the point. "Moxie. And yeah, that's my real name. My parents had a weird sense of humour."

"I only care about the things you stole because they're dangerous. Highly dangerous." explains Colin, "If you had any idea…" He digs his wallet out of a back pocket and tosses the electric company check on a card table in the foyer. Then begins thumbing out bills. "Here's five hundred dollars." he holds up the bills and looks at Moxie to get her attention. "You get the other five hundred when I have the items in hand. Agreed?"

Stretch seems not to really respond to or care about anything that's going on in front of him for the moment. He just stands there looking like a technologically advanced statue. Although the advancement thing is debatable because Stretch seems more like some 1950's idea of what a robot ought to look like, all anthropomorphized tin-man looking.

Moxie takes the money, counting it quickly and then curling her hand around it protectively, concealing it in her palm. "Can you make it six?" she asks, looking up at him with raised eyebrows, seeming more hopeful than conniving this once - or she's just getting better at it. "I'll bring you your stuff. Whatever. I don't even know what they do. And you'll just call the cops on me if I don't," she adds with a roll of her eyes, remembering that moment of uncoolness before getting distracted again by the robot. "So what's that do?"

"Five at a time." Colin insists. He looks at Stretch and says, "Oh, that's just Stretch. He's the butler. My uncle made him." He tosses this out there as if every house has a robot, or ought to. "Stretch, watch her while I get something." he says, ducking in toward the kitchen.

"Yes, Master Roger." the robot replies metallically.

"/Fine/," Moxie heaves as she pockets what she has before at least that much is thought better of. If there's a reason she was angling for six, she would rather settle for five than admit it. "Watch me?" she repeats incredulously, as if she hadn't already stolen from him once. "Oh my God, I don't need some robot to watch me," she mutters, probably more to Stretch at this point than Colin, though she doesn't care who hears it. While he's gone, she takes a look around, taking a few steps in a random direction to see if Stretch will stop her.

Stretch doesn't, in fact, try to stop Moxie at all. He swivels his head to look at her and quite literally…watches.

Moxie snorts at the robot's literal interpretation, but all she is actually interested in doing is looking around, so she just drifts about the room, exploring. A few pieces of art get weird looks from her, well out of her realm of experience, but she doesn't so much as try to touch any of it.

The house is filthy with art. Paintings, professional photography, and bits of sculpture. And there's at least one guest room visible down a hallway from the foyer. Neatly made bed. All that.

About then Colin comes back with a set of goggles (the ones he wore in the park that night) and what looks like a taser. He starts off by pointing the device at Moxie and puts the goggles over his eyes. "Hold still for a moment."

Moxie turns back and raises her hands instinctively. "I didn't /take/ anything," she states defensively, glancing over at the robot. "Ask him." Only then does it occur to her that maybe this has more to do with those scans he'd mentioned. All the same, she keeps her hands up, just in case.

"I didn't say you did, you fool." mutters Colin acidly. He keeps right on pointing the thing at Moxie for a solid thirty seconds. Long enough to say, "Well…you're healthy for the most part. A bit malnourished. You don't eat right and your metabolism apparently is geared toward unhealthy weight loss. You might develop osteoporosis in middle age, if you live that long and stop your life of crime…"

Stretch simply stares at Moxie this whole time. Still doing what he was told.

"Oh my God, just shoot me instead," Moxie groans when he starts lecturing her about her dietary habits. "Not osteo-whatever," she feigns concern, rolling her eyes (well, doesn't feign very much, really). "What about the stupid /laughing/, Doc?" she asks, trying to get him back on task and away from the fact that it's food or rent these days. "And can you get that thing to stop staring at me? He's giving me flashbacks." Too many people staring at her today.

With a sigh, Colin turns off the device and takes off the goggles, looking stumped. "Nothing." He glances at Stretch and says, "Stretch, go bother Lily."

"Yes, Master Roger." acknowledges Stretch, kastomp kastomp kastomping away down the hall.

"Moxie, I have to confess I'm a little concerned for you. Are you living in that slum by yourself?" asks Colin, propping the handheld scanner on a nearby table and stepping back while it works to get himself scanned, his arms held out.

Moxie breathes a little easier once both robot and weird goggle-thingy aren't fixed on her. She moves over to look at the objet d'art she was last examining, shrugging her shoulders. "So what if I am? You're not going to get all responsible grown up and call the authorities again, are you? 'Cause if so, I'm totally not living there alone. There are /tons/ of responsible adults." She doesn't even try to sell it.

"No. I wouldn't. Not only won't I, but shouldn't." Colin lets out a huge sigh and puts his face in his hands. Then walks to the scanner and turns it off. "I'll have to finish this another time, when I'm not busy trying not to rhyme." He looks at Mox and says, "I'll make this easy, all right? If you like you may spend the night." He points down the hall at a guest room. "Or if you'd rather not stay I'll call a taxi to take you away."

Moxie groans when he starts doing that rhyming thing, and she seems about ready to make a pointed comment about not being that sort of girl when she notices that he's actually indicating the guest room instead of his own. "I /have/ a place," she notes, crossing her arms over her chest and turning back to face him properly. "I mean, I'm not some helpless kid." But there's a certain amount of justifying in her tone, almost as if she's making these points leading up to another one entirely.

"I'm not arguing. This isn't a point of bargaining. Either stay or don't because convince you I won't." There's clear distaste on Colin's face at that one as he rolls his eyes at himself. Terrible rhymes. He takes his stuff and heads into the kitchen with it.

"What, not going to have a robot watch me this time?" Moxie calls after him as he goes, muttering something to herself as she turns back to the walls. This time, she doesn't really look at the art though, just staring past it as she weighs her options.

"What's the point? You're only casing the joint." calls Colin from the kitchen, muttering to himself about how crappy these rhymes are…and the muttering rhymes. He's gone for a good few minutes, long enough to go to the cellar and do stuff.

"I'm not-!" Moxie doesn't even bother to finish the annoyed denial that she's doing any such thing. Can't a girl just check out some freaky-deaky art without wanting to steal it? She does grow curious about where he's gone to, when he doesn't return so quickly this time, so she lets her exploring begin to lead her over towards the kitchen.

The noises from the open door to the cellar betray that he's down there. There's the mechanical hissing and servo-whirring of some kind of doors opening and closing. Opening and closing again, and he's coming up the stairs to the kitchen proper. Colin doesn't seem the least bit concerned that Moxie was exploring. "Well?" he asks, eyes cutting down, to the wall, back to Mox as he seems a little relieved the rhyming has let up again.

"I'll stay," Moxie replies with a shrug, as if deigning to do him this favour. Since he doesn't seem to care about her curiosity, she doesn't bother trying to hide it, glancing at the stairs and around the kitchen as well. It might be her one and only shot at witnessing first hand the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Well, rich, anyway. Her eyebrows go up a bit when she realizes he hasn't followed that with a rhyme, but then she… she starts to laugh. And curse. While laughing. She gives him a look, as if blaming him for this predicament, but the laughter won't be stopped.

Another roll of the eyes and Colin steps past Moxie, tapping her on the shoulder in passing. "This way, I'll show you a room…"

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