"I'm a detective..." Ashton shifted uncomfortably in his seat to face her. "Just like the author of The Maltese Falcon. He drew from his experiences as a detective, in writing this stuff... people were really like that, sometimes. Back then. Hard to cope any other way. Get calloused, with edges. The job's pretty noir." Dramatic pause. "Trenchcoats and dated hats, notwithstanding."

"So, yeah..." He changed the subject. "Maybe not 100% like this, but this stuff isn't so out there that it isn't possible for some hardboiled detectives to still exist. Must be why the movie resonates so well. Timeless. Rough, but written from experience. I came to the movies because it's a classic, though. Not as a means to some escape. So, thank you. No laughing at me."

He really couldn't see how any of this was funny. Kind of a mood dampener, really. Judgmental, emphasis on the mental.

Ashton shifted in his seat to talk to her, and Riley held her ground, staring back in the dark and wondering what in her statement held so much gravity.

He…was a detective. Not quite as bad as if he’d been married or a psychopath, but still pretty low on Riley’s list of desired professions. She refrained from holding it against him though, ao far, he hadn’t gone all cop-like on her. Maybe it wouldn’t happen. He was apparently affronted by the way she’d laughed at his suggestion that there were real life hardboiled detectives out there.

Riley’s eyebrow rose a bit as he pointed out how hard the job was, and she nodded her head a bit to show she was listening to what he said….even if she didn’t necessarily appreciate how seriously he was taking her innocent comments.

He spoke more and Riley understood. Laughing at the movie, no matter how silly some of it seemed…was like laughing at him. Riley knew how that felt, people not taking your profession seriously, or looking down on you because of it. The movie resonated with him…his sentiments resonated with her.

”Well.” she said, fumbling a bit for words she rarely used, ”If I can get my foot out of my mouth…I’d like to apologize.” she said sincerely.

”I didn’t mean to insult your profession…” she finished lamely, fully aware that there wasn’t any excuse for the way she’d laughed, ”I know how awful that can be.”

And she left it at that, what else could she say? She'd flubbed up.

And there he'd gone, making her feel bad. Good. Wait. Not good. Maybe he'd been a little hasty taking offense. Nobody liked getting laughed at. Maybe she hadn't been laughing at him, but the whole situation. Maybe she'd thought he was kidding.

Whatever.

To reiterate the point, nobody liked getting laughed at. To add to it, 'not even her'.

"Yeah." He quietly gave her the point. "It's no fun." And she probably hadn't intentionally been trying to blindside him with rudeness. The mood was kind of ruined, though. How could he possibly fix it? "Maybe I shouldn't have taken offense. You probably didn't mean anything by it." No apologies. But... he could talk it out. "And I guess, after the movie's over, we can still get a cup of coffee or something."

And, that.

He gave her the point. It wasn’t fun to be laughed at, and Riley could acknowledge that she probably should have been a little more sensitive. Still, something seemed broken now and Riley just nodded her head, going back to her popcorn, slowly crunching a couple of pieces at a time and trying to get her mind back on the movie. She sighed slightly as he spoke again, acknowledging that she probably hadn’t meant any offense.

Part of Riley wanted to snip a little bit at that…of course she hadn’t meant offense. She didn’t just wander around and say rude things to people. She hadn’t even been talking about Detectives in general. Just the over the top…hard boiled…Riley stopped her mental tirade. She’d been wrong…no matter how he reacted….and had he just asked her for coffee after the show?

Riley finished chewing her popcorn thoughtfully. It would be easy to just shrug her shoulders and say no…to pretend like she’d been somehow damaged by his response. She hadn’t…sure her pride had been hurt a bit, and she was embarrassed…and it probably would have been easier to run after the movie and never have to deal with the guy again.

But…he had such good taste in movies…and since when did Riley do anything the easy way?

”That…would be okay…really nice actually.” she said, smiling slightly in his general direction.

"Great," Ashton agreed with a half nod. He popped a piece of her popcorn, of which he still had the bulk sum in bag form, into his mouth, returning his focus to the big screen. He still had the raisinettes, too. He had all the snacks, and a coffee date. Things were... looking up?

Hrm.

"Here." He thrust the bag of popcorn her way with an upturned palm, holding it out in front of her. Held it just long enough for her to take it. "I've been hogging it." Ashton said. "Totally unfair, right?" A small smile of confidence and humor slipped back onto his face. They could move past the awkward, it seemed, and... eat some damned popcorn.

He still had his chocolate-covered raisins. If she asked, he'd still share.

What was the movie now? 2/3rds? 1/2 over? Plenty of time to snack and talk.

The movie was like half over…maybe a little past…and Riley was out of popcorn. When had that happened? Oh. Probably about the time she’d given the whole bag to Detective Ashton. He must have had the same thought, because a moment later the bag was hovering in front of her, and he was pointing out how unfair his hogging had been.

Riley heard the humor creeping into his voice and smiled, ”It’s only appropriate that you were…Bogarting the popcorn.” she said, resisting the urge to add a nudge to the comment. There was only so far you could go, and she was pretty sure she was going to get a pained groan from the comment as it was.

Still. She took the popcorn and promptly ate a handful. It was almost half gone too. Riley hadn’t really planned on two people eating from the bag. Hopefully there would be enough.

”So.” she said, trying to make more not-awkward conversation.

”Any guilty pleasures besides old movies in shabby theaters?”

Bogarting.

Heh. Real funny. The chick was some kind of comedian. "You're missing the Horatio Caine shades." He replied dryly. Now was right about the time The Who started playing, right? Yeah.

Yeah.

It was.

He would not stretch that yeah out like he'd seen some people on the internet do when they wanted to truly embarrass themselves with a repeated joke referencing pop culture. He did not browse those boards. He did not understand their self referential humor. He just happened to have watched that show once or twice, once upon a time, and was familiar with the reference. So. There. Change of subject time. Riley did the honors.

Guilty pleasures? "Besides B movies and classic movies? Hm." Pause, Pooh Bear head tap think pose. Think think think. He looked at her again, and suggested weakly. "Bad... music? I. Uh. Used to be in a band." A really bad one. "I still have my record collections. Rolling Stones. Styx." Did that count as a guilty pleasure? A bad habit? Depended on what tastes she had in music. Speaking of. "I turn the question back to you. Well?" He waited expectantly.

Riley grinned a little vaguely at the CSI Miami reference. She’d heard the name, but didn’t really watch TV…so it was a little lost on her. That was okay though, they were back to the joking and playing. Riley frowned a bit as she realized how much she’d wanted that to happen…the joking and the playing. It was so weird…she didn’t do these kinds of things, she didn’t desperately seek flirty jokes….except apparently she did. What the hell.

It wasn’t irritating though…it was comfortable. It was fun. Riley was enjoying herself…and that was okay. The dark-haired woman frowned at the little nagging part inside of her that tried to say that she didn’t…that good things didn’t happen to her…that something, somewhere was going to pop up and ruin everything. But something had popped up already, and they were still going for coffee.

Ashton was still speaking, answering her question and Riley tuned back with plenty of time to catch what he said about bad music. Riley had to chuckle a little bit, filing the information away. He used to be in a band? A noir detective band. That was kind of a cool mental picture that Riley filed away. Oh man…he liked Styx. Wow. Yeah. That was a guilty pleasure.

….and now he wanted to know hers.

”Sweat pants and jeans…grungy t-shirts and ponytails.” she said with a satisfied smile, ”I don’t get to wear them very often…and even though they look awful…I don’t even care.”

Riley thought a little more, and shrugged her shoulders, ”I read…sometimes good books…sometimes really really…awful books.” she grinned though, "They're great."

Ponytails? Now, how could those look terrible? He didn't say a word. If she thought they looked bad, he'd give her the benefit of the doubt. She was the attractive woman. Frankly, if they were being truthful, he didn't think she could look bad at all.

As for books. "Oh yeah?" He asked. "What kind of books?"

Ashton was no avid book-reader. He got his entertainment from movies, television, and other people. He never seemed to have the time to make any dents in any of the piles of books some people suggested for him. What? Did they expect him to have an in-box and an out-box for these sorts of things, so he could just chuck when he was finished reading? Who did they think he was?

What sorts of awful did the lil lady think were great?

The Detective became a man of few words as Riley shared her guilty pleasures. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was because he had no opinion on the matter…or lots of opinions on the matter. She didn’t ask, just waited to see what would happen next, both in the conversation, and in the movie. More detective noir stuff…yeah, Casablanca was way more her speed.

This was okay though. Riley looked at her popcorn…it was starting to get dangerously low. She frowned a bit and glanced in Ashton’s direction. The movie was working its way towards the end…they’d get coffee soon. He asked what kind of books she liked.

”You don’t even want to know.” she said, then shrugged her shoulders, ”Mostly just badly written fiction.” Another thoughtful pause, then a handful of the dwindling popcorn, ”My taste in books isn’t nearly as good as my taste in movies.” she said with a grin.

”A band huh?” she followed with, trying to keep the conversation going while saving something of substance for the coffeeshop and not talking too much about books. ”What kind?”

"Oh, come on." Ashton smirked, not letting go. "What kinds of books?" He crossed his arms. "We can talk about bands later."

What kind of books was she that embarrassed about, that she couldn't tell him. That bad? What, was she into some sort of cult reading material. Oprah's Book Club? Now he was curious. By comparison, his band days were nowhere near as interesting as terrible books and movies.

”Nothing good that you want to hear anything about.” Riley said, wishing she’d never brought the subject up. But really…out of all the things she’d said, who fixated on the books? Obviously Detective Drake. Riley didn’t want to get into the pros and cons of romance novels in the middle of a hard-boiled Detective mystery. It just wasn’t right…like oil and water.

”And why are you avoiding the band subject?” she asked with a teasing grin, hoping she wasn’t overstepping again with the tease. She decided to give a little…quid pro quo style to change the subject.

”Honestly though. Just super dramatic fiction. Damsels in distress and the like. Nothing interesting.”

>>”And why are you avoiding the band subject?”

Again with the smirk. "Guess we both have topics we're avoiding." Ashton said. She was teasing. Him too.

She finally cracked, and shared. Super-dramatic fiction. Damsels in distress. Images of Dudley Do-Right and mounties galloped through his head. "Waxed mustaches, included?" Pause, joking addition. "They were with some guys in that band."

”So it would appear.” Riley said, with a grin and a small chuckle. At least they were in agreement. There were topics that were just too…blah…to be talking about in such pleasant company.

Except they were still talking about those subjects…albeit in a roundabout, half-serious way. Somehow that was okay, Riley laughed, ”Not even that well-written.” she admitted candidly…after his admission about his band-mates, she had little choice but to reciprocate. The mental picture was great.

”Oh wow. Mullets too? Cut-off jeans? Do you guys still do shows from time to time? If so, I might have to look you up.”

"Afraid not," Ashton conceded, not too sadly. "It was back in college. I'm sure they've developed taste since then. For a 'wannabe band' of ex-marching band members and social outcasts, they weren't all hopeless. Maybe one or two... heh. Larry. And Bob. Bob was the music teacher with the waxed mustache one of the group roped into the band. He tried to organize that which could not gain a semblance of organization. Basically, that meant he got us to set up our equipment right. Not everyone could manage the part where they played it right. They had rock star ambitions, those few..." He trailed off for a second, then jumped back in.

"I still have my drumset, though... and my guitar. I never had a mullet." He felt the need suddenly to make that point very clear. He laughed to himself. "Though, that would have been a surefire way to get my butt kicked by dear ol' dad."