That scene aside (we assume) Plaza’s portrayal of a Type-A student is a sort of homecoming role for her. "I was president of every club that I could be president of," she says. "Class president. Student council president, which is the ultimate." She played volleyball and softball; she still plays softball. But so far, the idea that Aubrey Plaza = April Ludgate has been hard to kick.

"I’m generally really interested in things and people," she says. "And I like things and people. I think literally April says that she doesn’t like things or people."

I point out that "liking things and people" is maybe the most noncommittal way to like anything.

"You’re right," she says. Her eyes flare. She does this when excited by the possibility of a witty exchange—flares her eyes the way some people flare their nostrils. She says "Yes, that’s right," instinctively, constantly, a quirk of her improv training in the Upright Citizens Brigade; she has a shoot-first-ask-later approach to comedy, and conversation, and life in general, which is why she keeps walking into trouble.

Yes, about that. Plaza has managed to torpedo nearly every public appearance she’s made within recent memory. On The Ellen DeGeneres Show, she came on stage doing such a strange, nearly invisible dance move—it seemed that she was rowing a tiny boat—that the host welcomed her with a reprimand: "That was such lack of commitment to dancing, if that’s what that was." On a morning news program, she wore fake teeth onto the set for no reason. Most famously, she walked onstage this spring while Will Ferrell was accepting an MTV Movie Award and attempted to take the statue out of his hands. It didn’t work. Then she sat down. It only seemed to reinforce the misconception that she is as awkward as any of her characters.

"I guess I think it’s better to go out there and do something interesting than to just do what everybody expects," she says now. "And that’s the kind of thing that gets picked up."

Dessert menus arrive, and despite a dairy allergy and a propensity for sugar highs, she orders something called a chocolate-mousse bombe. Pretty soon, she worries that she’s begun to spiral into that magnificently awkward place. ("Oh God, everything I said was wrong"). She kind of is. ("It exploded all over my insides," she says when the waitress collects what’s left of the mousse bombe. "If I die I’ll just sue you guys.")

My phone rings. "Who’s that, your wife?" she asks. I tell her it’s my girlfriend.

"Tell her you’re staying here for the night," she says, "because a murderer kidnapped you." Her eyes flare. "What if you find out I’m not shooting a movie here? I’m going to follow you on my bike and kill you."

Outside, it’s getting dark, and cold, and I offer to give her a lift back to her rented house. Together, we manage to shove Plaza’s also-rented mountain bike into the trunk of my car. She suggests that perhaps she did not show up on a bike, wearing a helmet and a hoodie. "Aubrey Plaza arrived in a stretch limousine and a Zac Posen, um, shift dress," she says. "And an effortless... um...."

"She looked like she was born to wear high heels?" I suggest.

"Yes," she says. "That’s right."

When we arrive at her place, she invites me in to show me the knife that she’d kill me with. It’s sitting on the built-in bookshelf next to her bed. "This is it," she says. "I practice picking it up quickly." She perches on the bed and picks it up, twice, quickly.

It is not clear if she is fucking with me. But this is exactly the point. Aubrey Plaza isn’t awkward, not really: She’s operating on a subtle frequency between sincerity and artifice, between humoring an interviewer and trolling him, between pretending not to try and committing completely. Will Ferrell should have handed her that damn statue, and who knows what would have happened next.

So this is what a night with her is like: She makes the most of every opening. The next day I listen to my recording of our dinner. I start to skip a part where I walked away from the table. But then...

"Vagina," she says into the voice recorder. "Penis. Balls." She starts laughing to herself. "Old person’s penis. With a top hat on it. And a mustache. On the beach."

Silence.

"Penis, vagina, penis, vagina, penis, vagina. Penis penis. Aaaand penis."