Overkill

17 | chihiro

"That's my favorite part."

Moxie glanced up from her spot on the floor. She didn't want to think too hard about how many times she had spent sitting on floors in the past few days. It was mildly alarming how easily she had been caught off guard by a strange man looming over, and she would be lying if she said she didn't immediately look up and down the hallway for a sign of her brother or Roxanne. The latter had disappeared in search of something to drink. The former was... being his usual wandering self. Probably also in search of something to drink. Something a little more bubbly than Roxanne's choice of beverage. Once upon a time, Moxie would have gone with him to steal a bottle of champagne. She wasn't quite in the mood these days.

"What was that?"

The man pointed at her phone. "The river spirit scene. Younger me thought the tension in that scene was unmatched."

"Oh, yeah." Moxie paused Spirited Away before tucking her phone on her lap. "I'm partial to any scene with Lin."

"She's badass."

"I think I was kind of in love with her, to be honest."

"That's very fair. Haku is my best Ghibli boy."

"Also very fair."

He gestured to the space next to her. "Do you mind if I sit?"

There wasn't a shortage of seating, so Moxie was confused as to why he felt the need to burst her bubble. His face didn't look even remotely familiar. Moxie couldn't quite get a read on him, but it was hard when he stood looking down at her. On any given day, she found it her special privilege to be as rude to men as she wanted, but her gut told her to be nice today. Besides, he tucked his shirt into his pants in a way that made her appreciate his vibes. Like watching another woman walk into the room and see her wearing a carabiner on her belt loop.

"I might mind, but alright," she answered. Moxie waited until he was seated before continuing. She wouldn't reward him with extra points for keeping a generous distance between them, but she still appreciated it. Made her feel a little less concerned about his surprise appearance in the empty hallway. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Probably not. We've never met," he said. The man held out his hand. "Porter."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"You may or may not be interviewed by him today."

Moxie wanted to slap her forehead. "Right. Porter Che. Roxanne sent me your info."

"Clearly left a strong impression on you."

"To be fair, it did not include a headshot."

Porter laughed. "I hate getting my picture taken."

Interesting observation, considering he looked exactly like the kind of person who graduated from NYU with a photography portfolio that could be pulled straight from an indie music-focused magazine. (Respectfully.)

"I much prefer being behind the camera," he elaborated as if having read her mind.

"How long have you been writing for?" Moxie asked. She felt the urge to mention her friend—big lesbian question mark—Axel the photographer but suppressed it because then she would have to admit she didn't know him that well.

"Professionally?" Porter rearranged the sparkling and brand-new notepad and recorder in his hands. "A few years. Current place for about a year."

"Nice. Interview anyone fun yet?"

"I did a recent piece on this new band Roslyn. They're from—"

"Minnesota, yeah." Moxie had been listening to more of their music over the past week. Last she had heard, Stevie was still working with them on their debut album which was due to come out soon, thanks to Marty signing them as his newest client. "They've dropped some sick singles. I'm excited to hear what they do."