Apology Cake and Smoked Gouda


tracy_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif

Scene Title Apology Cake and Smoked Gouda
Synopsis Magnes arrives to apologize for flashing the President, Tracy is pissed for a while, then they bond over rich person food.
Date August 27, 2009

Tracy's Love Shack (Aka Tracy's Apartment)

Swanky Tracy Apartment! With rich person food.

Having not spoken since the conference, Magnes arrives at Tracy's place in the middle of the afternoon, carrying a cake dish with his black suit and tie from the event, hair gelled back. He's apparently set on apologizing.
He's going to need it. Tracy is working from home today, telecommuting it's called. Not that it does a lot for her stress levels, but she seems back in her element. She is pacing her living room, phone glued to her ear. "Yes well arrange that for next month. I understand. Hold on, there's someone at the door." She goes over and opesn the door without checking who it is, turning her back to it. "No, something a bit less grand, this isn't the State of the Union."

"You should really ask who it is first, that's dangerous." Magnes points out as he walks in, then gently kicks the door shut. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I swear Tracy, I didn't go there with the intention of doing that, but no one was asking, and I thought it was necessary. I gave President Petrelli a letter to apologize."

Tracy had every intention of ignoring Magnes. Hell at first she didn't know who it was - she assumed it was Mortimer. But seeing who it is, she hangs up the phone abruptly. "You did what!?" She asks, her voice not raising, but the intensity is certainly there. "You didn't go there with the intention of doing that, well why did you do it? Give me this letter, at least let me read it before you do any more damage. If you'd just been a lunatic in the crowd, that would have been one thing. But you came with me, Magnes, and how you behaved reflected upon me. But you didn't think about that, you didn't even think…." She holds her hand out for this letter

"It's too late for the letter, but I took all the blame for everything, Tracy. I did it because I thought it had to be done, it was the last question and I didn't think anyone was gonna ask it. You have no idea how sorry I am…" Magnes sits the lidded cake dish on the coffee table, taking a deep breath. "I'll do anything to make it up for you, just name it. I'll never make you look bad like that again, I didn't intend for it to happen in the first place, I'm really really sorry."

Tracy lets out a cynical little laugh. "I know you won't, Magnes. You aren't mature enough to handle those kinds of situations, and I'm not bringing out out again like that, not until you've gotten a masters degree and have calmed down a bit. Even if it weren't just the question - which it was, you aren't press but even that could have slipped - you flashed the Presdient. The President of the United States. You flashed him."

"Tracy, I swear, you can trust me! Just give me one more chance, at the ball, I swear if you just give me this chance…" Magnes doesn't finish, he lifts the lid of the cake, revealing a double layered banana cream cake with French vanilla icing and words written in blue that say 'I'm Sorry I Screwed Up'. "And I apologized to the President in that letter."

Tracy glances at the cake that she would probably only have a thin slice of before throwing out the rest, lest it ruin that shapely ass of hers. "Magnes, absolutely not. The ball is going to involve a lot of conversation, and face-to-face interaction. I can't have your name tied to mine. The stunt you pulled in the PC was passable because crazies get in all the time. The ball is for society's elite."

"I can keep all my comments quick and simple, I won't say anything controversial. If you want, I could disguise myself, I'm pretty good at that, and not just a silly disguise, I can really do a good one…" Magnes groans, walking to the couch to take a seat. "I screwed up so bad, didn't I?"

Tracy shakes her head. "No, Magnes. Not that bad. Like I said, we get crazies at those things all the time. The problem with a lot of protestors and people from 'mainstream america'," The air quotes are all in her voice, "…is that they don't understand how things are done inside the beltway. It might make sense to show off your scars, but it simply isn't done. It's not polite. And if you can't handle behavioral procedure at the PC I…Magnes I really can't see how you could at the ball."

"I spoke to someone today about what I did. They said that while it made an impression, being subtle is important. Tracy, I know what I did was wrong, and I felt really bad when I realized how wrong." Magnes floats into the air and in front of her, looking her directly in the eye. "Just give me one more chance? If I screw up, you'll never see me again."

Tracy waves a dismissive hand, going for her kitchen to have a glass of water. "Stop being overdramatic, that's…really why I don't think I can trust you with this. It's not a matter of never wanting to see you again. You see everything in black and white, all or nothing. At this ball there's going to be an awful lot of gray. It's going to be a concept you don't understnad and I really don't think you can adapt."

"What if I stay with you and you just nudge me whenever you think I'm gonna say something stupid?" Magnes floats out to the kitchen with her, legs crossed as he floats upside down next to her head. "All I'm asking is for a second chance. Do you really think I can do worse than flash the President on TV?"

Tracy nods as she turns back for the dining area. "Yes, Magnes, you can do a lot worse. The people at the Ball are really going to be the ones who run this country. They don't make the decisions, but they're the ones that make those decisions happen. If any of these people start to distrust or dislike me for any reason, they could stop working with me which could create a huge problem."

"You're really not gonna let me go no matter what, are you?" Magnes asks, seemingly ready to let the subject go. "This sucks, but I guess I understand."

Tracy shakes her head with a sigh. "I'm sorry Magnes, I really…I want to, I do. But I don't think you can handle it, and I'm terrified that you can't."

"It's alright, Tracy." Magnes' body rotates until he's floating right side up again, smiling a bit regretfully. "You forgive me for what I did? You have no idea how sorry I am, I even made you that cake…"

Tracy shakes her head. "Magnes, I am sorry. I do understand your desire to see how the process works, and how things are going on. But you seem to zealous to run in and change several hundred years of procedure - and in the case of the ball, several thousand years of procedure. And you know how I feel about that, but more importantly, you'd be attached to my name. I'm sorry."
Tracy pages: PS if he just shows up there at the door and begs she'd probably let him in

"I understand, Tracy. I can't be attached to your name." Magnes nods, beginning to float out from the kitchen to take a seat on the couch again. "Can I taste your rich person food? And what'd you think of that guy's question, Rose Weston? You know, about Pinehearst making some sort of stuff that turns people into Evolved?"

Tracy shakes her head. "I really don't know what to think of it. It seems rather unlikely, doesn't it, seeing as we have an extremely high amount of Evolved citizens right now, there wouldn't be a reason to 'make' more, and I don't believe it can be done." Little does she know. "Sure, help yourself to whatever you like. I have to admit, I've never heard his name before, though."

"Rose Weston? I've never heard of him either." Little does Magnes know, as he stands up and goes to forage through her fridge, the next subject is very related to the name. "Am I supposed to be embarassed about hickies, or proud of them?" he asks, something she might not have noticed in all her anger, pointing to the left side of his neck, around three or four. "I feel like if I don't hide them, I'm making my girlfriend look bad or something."

Tracy shakes her head. "Hide them, or at least have her put them in places where you can hide them. It makes you look like a 15 year old who is so excited about getting laid they want to gloat about it, not realizing that everyone else has been doing it and will continue doing it and they don't care about your sex life." She slumps down in the sofa, putting her hands over her face with a sigh. Ironically enough, this is a good motion.

"Well there's not many other places you can kiss." Magnes points out, with his apparent mastery of Kissing 101, pulling out one of those typical gift baskets with meat and cheeses and such, except a lot more expensive than something you'd get at Christmas. "Whoa! This is awesome!" He closes the fridge and holds up the basket. "Can we eat this? And what's a good way to cover hickies?"

"And I was not getting laid!"

"Don't get them, they're trashy." She explains, waving a hand. "That's from Rachel, she's a lobbyist for the NRA." Hey, lobbyists bring gifts! "Save some smoked gouda." It is, after all, the very best cheese in the entire world.

"What's gouda?" Magnes sits next to her, going through the various cheeses and meats, sniffing lots of it. "And how do you avoid getting them? I mean I liked the process of getting them, but is there a way to avoid it?"
Tracy nods. "Tell her not to bite so hard. Magnes, I am not your sex ed teacher. Did you skip all of high school? And life? Give me that," she reaches over, taking the rind of gouda from him and setting it on the other side. That's for her.

"I was homeschooled for my entire life, I never went to elementary or high school, and my parents barely let me go out until I started sneaking out, at around seventeen. I was already super awkward by then." Magnes opens a jar of caviar, leaning down to sniff at it. "This smells disgusting, I thought this was supposed to be super amazing?"

Tracy takes the caviar too, in case he decides to throw it someplace. She caps it. "It's an aquired taste, like sex apparently," she murmers, setting it next to the gouda. "Seriously, you need to take some classes or something."

"My therapist offered to tell me everything I wanted to know, so I guess I'll do that next time." But something she says throws Magnes off a bit, and he raises an eyebrow as he opens a rather large pepperoni-like meat, except something far more expensive. "Sex is an acquired taste? So, it's not good all the time?"

Tracy shakes her head with a chuckle. "I was kidding, you seem to be the only one that has to become accustomed to the natural pleasures of life." She explains, taking a knife and slicing a thin slice of gouda, slipping it over her tongue and chewing on it thoughtfully.

Magnes just seems to take large bites of the sausage-like meat, clearly not knowing how one properly consumes these sorts of meats. "Well, I think I'd say that I have to thank you for a lot of the stuff I'm experiencing right now. You gave me a lot of confidence, you know, with the kissing and all…"

Tracy shakes her head. "Really, Magnes, don't mention it." Ever, to anyone. After taht stunt, and her bringing him to the PC, people will think that they're lovers. "They have camps and classes for confidence-building excersizes, maybe youcould try one of those."

"No, I'm good now. Really, having a girlfriend is the best thing that ever happened to me. I can even take my shirt off without becoming a nervou— alright, maybe that's not the best example right now…" Magnes grabs some sort of cheese spread, opening the jar to dip the meat in, then takes more large bites. "But I'm just saying, you're the catalyst."

Tracy shakes her head. "Go back to never mentioning it, Magnes." She begs, sighing. She stands as her phone rings, reaching for it. "You'll have to excuse me, I have work to do. Hello, Felicia? Yes, I have you group scheduled to meet with the Speaker on the hill next week. Is that alright?"

"Alright, I'm just gonna eat this stuff." Magnes lets Tracy work, likely to stay a while longer as he continues to chow down. Some of these meats would be great on a pizza…

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