"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."

Porter nodded. "I saw them at one of their first shows. It's a matter of when they go big." He paused and laughed. "Think the lead singer hates me, though."

"Oh?"

"Either that or she doesn't trust me 'cause I'm a man."

Now that she thought about it, Stevie did mention the lead singer of Roslyn was a lesbian.

"Honestly valid." Moxie stretched out her legs. It had been a while since she first sat down. Long enough for her to get to the river spirit in the bathhouse scene of Spirited Away. She thought she was clever for pretending like she was actually interested in rewatching the movie (as good as it was) and not just using it as an excuse to stare at her phone without being called out for it. "I'm not, like, late or anything, right?"

Porter shook his head. "No, I just needed to go for a walk and I saw you sitting here. Figured I'd introduce myself before we go on record."

"It's kind of cold out, isn't it?" Moxie wasn't good at small talk when she was so distracted. Not exactly ideal when she was about to spend however many hours being interviewed.

"Aren't you from Toronto?"

"I've been in LA for too long." Moxie paused. "Don't tell my parents. They'll be disappointed."

Inwardly, she cringed. She tried avoiding mentioning her parents so casually, presuming anybody she talked to knew them. Not that it mattered to him since he presumably did some research on them if he wasn't already aware of who her parents were.

"Your secret's safe with me," he replied.

What a loaded thing for a journalist to say.

And how unsurprising for her to assume the worst.

Journalists deserved a lot of respect for their work. In another life, one where Moxie fell in love with the music industry from the outside looking in, she imagined herself becoming a journalist who followed artists, learned about their craft, and wrote about her thoughts in a way so eloquent that readers around the world would fall in love with her interpretations as much as the music itself. Moxie enjoyed many writers and followed their careers, seeking their opinions on music in a way that couldn't quite be achieved the same way through someone who made music themselves. While not necessarily always, many art forms simply took on a new life because of how it was consumed and by whom. That was the nature of art, after all.

However, through no fault of his own, Porter bore the unfortunate position of having to follow in Giovanni Perez's footsteps. Moxie's guard was up about revealing anything about herself, afraid he could twist them to mean something entirely different. The fear was irrational. She had no reason to be scared of him. All the articles she had read after Roxanne sent over his information were well-written, interesting, and thoughtful. The fairer assumption would be that regardless of how articulate or poetic he translated her answers into an article, people would find ways to tear her words apart. Judging by the way she was already beginning to receive mentions on social media due to her proximity to the victims of Giovanni's hit piece, her intentions were all but guaranteed to be distorted.

Moxie clicked off the movie. "Sucks when something like your name gets taken away from you. Such an important part of your identity. And losing that part of you for so long you almost forget it entirely."

"What does your name mean to you?" Porter asked.

"Isn't that the kind of thing you'd save for the actual interview part?"

He held a silver pen in his right hand, which he clicked twice. "Not everything needs to be shared."

What did the name Moxie King mean to her? A question straight out of a college admissions application.

"Kind of a loaded question for a nepo baby," Moxie answered.

"Hey, at least you embrace it." Porter laughed. "That's why your answer will be even more... intriguing."

Moxie flicked her fingers. Touche.

It was hard to complain about her name. Not that most people wanted to listen to her anyway. (But who could blame them? Nepo babies were more annoying than usual as of late.)

A name like Moxie King, specifically as the child of Mischa and Milena King, came with privilege and wealth. Allowed her into spaces she would have otherwise had a much harder time getting into. It also meant she was granted the ease of being taken seriously from the jump. (Bar any incidents of misogyny or lesbophobia, and there were many of those.) Sure, an immense amount of pressure came with the title of being a younger King, but it felt (and was) incredibly silly to act like that burden outweighed all of the good that came with it.

A long time ago, she used to hate having the King moniker thrust upon her. Despised being called a king. It took her a while to embrace something she could never change. Eventually, she realized she would never change it either, because that meant severing ties to her family, even if only by name. If her name had been stolen from her, or manipulated out of her hands, she would fight through heaven and hell to get it back.

Still... she dreamed of living a life as a Queen.

"You don't have to answer." Porter broke her free from her thoughts.

"Sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"All good." Porter clicked his pen. "Maybe we can get some of that weight off your chest today."

Moxie laughed. "I don't know about that."