Knock, knock.
Keye shuffles and fidgets about while waiting for Taryn to answer the door. He's got flowers just 'cause (flowers are nice), and though it's a cheap-ish bouquet (and it shows)...at least he tried?
He likes Taryn, still, and makes something of an effort to be halfway normal. His sheepdog-esque appearance as of late (he need a haircut, badly) doesn't help. Hence the flowers.

Keye has the most twisted up logic.

It's cute, according to Taryn. (When it isn't making her head hurt, that is. Sometimes he just comes up with the most bizarre conclusions from the most ridiculous evidence.)

She opens the door, squeals, and snatches the flowers. Who cares if they're cheap? He brought her flowers. It's so cute. (Taryn, it must be confessed, is a bit of a hopeless romantic, in that she has a secret liking for romance novels--the least poorly written, at least--and a not-so-secret liking for chick flicks and adorable things that boys do.)

"Hi."

((Tie is so, so bad.))

"Yeah...those are for you. Hi. Just wanted to come by."
He takes this moment to dodge past the flowers and give Taryn a peck on the cheek. Or...wherever he happens to land, actually. He really can't see well through all the hair.
"Hi. What're you up to"

He gets her lips, and she chuckles and returns the peck.

"Okay."

He is adorable, in a puppydog kind of way. The clumsy kind that trips over his own ears.

"Not much. School and stuff. Reading. Trying to actually finish something I write for once. You?"

"Ugh. Same thing, except for the writing bit. School stuff."
A shudder.
Unlike high school, Keye is actually making an effort in his classes. But like high school, he is struggling in anything non mathematic in nature.
"I...hate it. I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"Nah, I had writer's block anyway. I hate the Baron; he's the most impossible character ever."

She's attempting a novel. She's never quite finished a short story longer than a couple pages. She's crazy, don't you think?

"Did you want to do something?"

"...Right. Whatever." He doesn't say this to be rude. It's just that as soon as something like 'character' or, god forbid, 'metaphor' comes out of her mouth, he's totally lost.

"Um...no. I didn't have anything in mind. If you wanted to, though...that would be okay with me. I mean, I have money and stuff, and I'm wearing shoes..."

She giggles. It doesn't actually matter to her if people understand what the heck she's talking about when she rambles about what she's writing. Mostly because nobody actually does.

"Sure, I don't mind. I've got to get out of here anyway. Where do you want to go?"

"Let's go to..."
He turned his eyes towards the ceiling (and the rest of his head, too), chewing the inside of his lip.
"The, uh...you know. Conservatory...thing. It's all...nature. And...yeah."

"You mean Hellmann's?"

She tilts her head.

"Kind of a long walk."

He looks slightly crestfallen. He'd carry her, if it came to that. But that would be weird, wouldn't it?
"Or we could just go to, y'know, dinner."

She pushes some of his hair out of his face. (She doesn't actually mind his mop of hair; it's fun to play with.)

"Or we could do both. I think I could pay half of a cab fare, if you want to head out that way..."

If he can see her, he might as well kiss her, right? Yeah.

"That...sounds...like fun."
He sounds a bit hesitant, because he really prefers to pay for as much as he can as often as he can (in regard to dates), but is oftentimes fairly short on cash.

Kisses are nice.

"Sure, we can do that. After dinner, do you think, or before?"

You know, it's a bit wearing to be in a relationship like this. Keye is hard to deal with, quite a lot of the time.

But he's adorable, so it makes up for it. Mostly.

And I can imagine that it's wearing at least in part because of what he's doing now: picking at his fingernails and being indecisive. He's always afraid to offend someone or make the 'wrong' choice, even over these insignificant little things, and it's undoubtedly frustrating.
"Um...after?"

Exactly.

Taryn would like him to just sweep her off her feet with some grand plan, once in a while. More than once a decade might be asking too much of him, unfortunately.

"'kay then. Where for dinner?"

He makes a "Fffff" noise through pursed lips, thinking. Why must she insist on asking so many questions?
Rather unhappily, he names an establishment at least somewhat higher-class than Monroe's. And this time, he doesn't put a question mark after. If she's paying half the cab fare, he'll at least treat her to a nice dinner. Still, he doesn't like having to make decisions that affect other people. Ever.

Yeesh, Keye, have you ever heard of a little thing called a backbone?

"Sure, great." Pause. "Think I should change?"

She is wearing plain jeans and a tank top, after all. (Though of course before she goes anywhere, she'll put a coat on. She's not insane.)

He looks at her, and then down at his own attire (likewise plain jeans, and a T-shirt with Bob Marley on it), shaking his head.
"...Nah. You look fine."

"'kay." She grabs her coat and slips on a pair of shoes, pulls her hair out of the ponytail and puts it back up--so that it's neat, ish, you know--and tilts her head at him.

"Ready."

"That was quick."
He steps forward and takes her arm. It's worth noting that when he does things like that, he always does it slowly, despite that most of his natural movements are sharp and erratic.
"Let's head out, then. Should we, uh...call the cab from the restaurant to cut down on the fare?"

"Sure, sounds good to me."

It was quick because she has to get dressed in less than five minutes in the mornings, as she tends to sleep in just a little, and then have to literally run to class to avoid being late.

She puts her hand on his bicep. He's a sweetheart.

And they walk.
Eventually, Keye goes from just taking her by the arm to sliding his arm over her shoulders, again slowly and carefully. Not so much like he's afraid he'd break her as like he's afraid she'll run away.

She won't run away. Oddly enough, Keye is one of the few men that she trusts completely.

She leans her head on his shoulder, as that's quite a comfortable position to take when his arm is around her shoulder.

It's nice, this walking together. She doesn't feel the need to talk, because this is just nice as it is.