usavatar | I WAS MADE TO HIT IN AMERICAAAA

I WAS MADE TO HIT IN AMERICAAAA

He should know not to go out at night by himself. Not because he's in any danger - Captain America in New York City on a less-than-average day doesn't have much to worry about. But because, almost without exception, he gets lost. Steve tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and squints up at the buildings around him, ignoring the college student who staggers by, stops to stare at him, and bursts out laughing before moving on.

He's used to that, too, by now. Apparently dressing conservatively these days isn't a reflection of care for the resources of the country, or a side-effect of living life as a soldier for two years - it's just "dorky." At least he doesn't feel like someone's taped a sign to his back, not since he asked Darcy - Agent Lewis - why he kept getting that reaction.

Of course the fact that she had to explain what 'Because you're a dork' meant didn't really help his... street cred. He chuckles to himself, only a little ironic, at managing to use both terms in one train of thought.

A few streets later he's getting very confused. Usually he's able to find at least one familiar street or landmark to point him in the general right direction, at least until he finds a cab to get him the rest of the way back to the mansion. He's done this enough in the months he's been here that his assigned SHIELD shadows don't pop a vein unless he's not back by morning - in this case, though, that's probably working against him.

Finally Steve sighs and digs into his pocket to pull out his cellular phone. He looks at it for a moment, smiling to himself and wondering what Howard would make of all this. Tiny phones with tinier batteries and communicators and jets that don't need runways to take off.

Well, for all Steve knows, Howard invented most of it. He still hasn't been able to bring himself to look at history texts to see how his friends lived out their lives. There's something too much like admitting he's never going to see them again in doing that.

He flips the phone open gingerly, poking the tiny buttons with his pinky because he's not sure how else to manage the thing, and dials in what he's fairly sure is Darcy's number. Agent Lewis's number. He could try calling someone else, but she's friendly, in her own way. She doesn't treat him like a loaded gun waiting to be pointed at the next Big Bad Guy.

Steve lifts the phone to his ear with a frown. "Uh. Hello?"

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"Nice to meet you," Steve says automatically. He starts walking again, keeping an eye on the street signs and wondering how he can just not be seeing the numbered streets. He doesn't think things have changed that much.

There's a little smile on his face that he can't really help, because... Well, it's kind of nice both to find someone who doesn't automatically react to his title and sounds so genuinely happy to talk to a stranger. "I guess you're new to the city? You could say I am too. Well, I was born in Brooklyn, but. It's been a while."

"The same to you, Captain America! Even if it's just over the phone," she says with a slight grin. A bonus behind the surprise phone call--the User on the other end was quite friendly!

"Brooklyn? That's in New York City, right?" She grabs a pillow, fluffing it under her arms. "I've heard stories, but I've never been there."

"You can call me Steve." He stops under a streetlight and scratches his head, thinking he's getting farther from the mansion instead of closer to it. He turns up the cross-street he's found himself on and keeps going. "Really?"

Here he thought everyone these days came to New York sooner or later. "Where are you from? I thought -" He cuts himself off with a sigh. It's not that surprising that he dialed so wrong, really.

Edited 2011-08-28 03:50 (UTC)

"Steve, then," she says with a nod he can't see. "I'm currently in California. Center City, to be precise."

Because where she's actually from remains a secret. For now. "You thought what?"

"Oh, I thought I would at least get someone inside New York - not that there's anything wrong with..." He stops, realizing he's starting to do that thing that Peggy always laughed at him for doing, and tries again. "I dialed a lot more wrong than I thought, that's all. Where's Center City? I've actually never been to California myself. Just New York and Europe."

"It's in the southern part of the state, according to Sam," she replies. She's seen maps before, too, so she knows that much.

"I haven't been to any other places either--just this city and a few neighboring ones. But I'd like to see more. Like New York and Europe!" She sounds rather excited as her sentence trails on, but she needs to get used to living in a regular apartment for starters before she can go anywhere else. "But don't worry, I'm still getting used to dialing on phones, too."

Edited 2011-08-28 04:19 (UTC)

He stops again, starting to think not all of this adds up. Not that he thinks she's being dishonest - but saying where her city is according to someone else, saying she's still getting used to dialing phones... She could be an illegal immigrant of some kind, he reasons, in which case he's hardly going to try and draw her into the open, but he needs to at least make sure she's really all right.

"Who's Sam? If you don't mind me asking." He looks both ways and jogs across the street, bumping into and denting a parking meter hidden in the shadows. Steve rubs his elbow and grimaces, mouthing an apology at the air.

Quorra smiles, briefly wondering when said User would be back from errands. "Sam is... a very good friend of mine. I'm living with him now," she explains fondly, not really thinking about how strange it might sound so much as taking care to keep certain things secret.

"Oh." He has to take a second to remind himself that's not strange, it's not a cause for worry, not these days.

These days. Two words he's getting tired of using already. He bends the parking meter back into shape with a wrench and a squeal of metal, gets an alarmed look from a homeless man who promptly drops the flask he was drinking from, and continues on his way after Steve gives the man a friendly nod.

Since Quorra doesn't seem to object to personal questions the way most people do, Steve ventures to add, "You two must be very close. Have you known him long?"

She pauses because--just how long would it translate into with User time? "Not too long," she admits, biting her lip. She tries to calculate, but she's not sure if the actual time is... normal. She doesn't want to sound suspicious.

"But I trust him completely. I wouldn't be here without him."

The more she talks, the more worried he gets. He's coming up with a dozen different scenarios that could have landed her with someone she doesn't really know, someone she's obligated to, and none of them are pleasant. Steve tries very hard to keep the scowl out of his voice when he speaks again. "Do you have any family close by?"

She frowns a little, her mind flashing to the Purge, to what happened with Flynn on the Grid. "No," she says heavily. "Sam is all I have left."

There was Alan and Lora, but Quorra didn't consider herself as close to them as she was to Sam. But she did have Sam, and that was the most important part. As long as she had him, she'd be okay. "But Sam is... Sam. I'm glad he's letting me stay with him."

There's a bench, set to one site of the gate of a locked children's park. He sits, quiet for a few seconds while he tries to figure out what to say.

'I'm sorry' doesn't mean much in this kind of situation, he's learned. Someone being sorry for another person's loss, unless they know that loss themselves... He leans back and stares up at the empty sky, remembering the woods and the cold of the ground and the Howling Commandos asleep around him while he took the last watch before morning. That one was always his.

"I'm sorry," he says, with all the weight of loneliness in it. Silence again, and then, "If you wanted to leave him, you could?"

"Thank you," she says earnestly, recognizing a certain familiarity in his tone.

She draws in a deep breath--she can't even imagine leaving Sam willingly, especially now. She nestles deeper into the couch, as if to assure herself that it would never happen. "I wouldn't want to. But yes, I could leave if I wanted."

He mimics her breathing without realizing it, sighing and relaxing at the same time. He's still probably going to ask Coulson to check up on her somehow - with a name as unique as Quorra it shouldn't be too hard for the man to find her - but he doesn't feel quite so immediate a need to make sure she's all right.

"So where are you from? Sounds like you're pretty new to California."

She freezes, because of course he'd ask that question, and she doesn't know how to answer.

"It's... a little complicated." She taps her fingers on the pillow, staring at it. They'd agreed to keep things about the Grid on the down-low for now, but she was rather enjoying this conversation. She liked this Steve. "But you could definitely say I'm new here."

"You don't have to tell me," he says, stretching one arm and settling in on the bench. "It's all right. I understand."

Probably an illegal - but she definitely doesn't sound like it. He hesitates, debating telling her about himself, about seventy years gone between saying one word and thinking the next, but decides to stay quiet. It's not like what happened to him isn't common knowledge, the subject of dozens of interview questions and hundreds of news stories and more than a few biography requests. But he's enjoying this conversation too, almost to his own surprise, and he's enjoying not being Captain America for a few minutes. Just Steve. It's with a good deal more cheer that he says, "When you do come to New York, I can show you a little diner in Brooklyn that's been there forever. One of those hole-in-the-wall places."

"Most Users--" she stops, shaking her head, "--people, don't really... know where I'm from."

That was... marginally safe. It would probably raise more questions, but she hated flat out lying, especially to people she liked. But at his offer, her face lights up, and he can probably hear the grin in her voice. "Really? That sounds exciting!"

He makes another mental note about that slip of the tongue, wondering again who she is. He said she didn't have to tell. He can't exactly go pressing her for information after that. It would be rude.

Her reaction to his invitation makes Steve laugh, and it feels good. He hasn't done a lot of it except to be polite or put reporters at ease in the past few months. He keeps the grin the laughter brings, enjoying that too. "It's not really, but the food is good and the prices are better. Veterans eat free. Besides, they like it when I come around."

Being there is almost like being home, if he doesn't overthink it.

Her own grin deepens when he laughs. "I've been trying so many foods! The different kinds are never ending, but that's okay. It's really fun. And it is exciting. I haven't had "diner" food yet!"

She pauses before asking, hesitantly: "Veteran? Does that mean you are one?"

Edited 2011-08-28 07:10 (UTC)

Steve bites back another laugh. He doesn't want her to think he's mocking her. But her inexperience with different kinds of food is just another hatchmark on the side of the weird, and her not knowing what a diner is - well, maybe she's from another planet, like Thor. It's not unreasonable to think that there are other aliens out there, more discreet than the Asgardian.

And then there's that question. He nods, remembers she can't see it, and says, "Yeah. I served during the second World War." A pause. "Do you know about it?"

"The Second World War?" She does some quick calculations--that was several decades ago to Users, but Steve sounded fairly young, certainly no older than Sam. It seems she wasn't the only one hiding things.

But then she answers, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Yes. I've read a fairly large number of books on it. You... participated?"

Edited 2011-08-28 07:30 (UTC)

He huffs amusement. So much for not telling her about himself. "Yeah. I raised money stumping for war bonds, and went overseas to do some work behind enemy lines." Symbol he may be, but Johann Schmidt, the factories, the Valkyrie- all of that's still classified. "One of the missions I was on went bad, and..."

Steve sighs, the cheerfulness withering. "I was in stasis for a long time. Since 1943."

Pausing, she sits in silence for a few moments. She doesn't disbelieve him; she's simply taking in the gravity of it. "That's a very long time."

She won't bring it up, but she knows the complexity of Users aging and growing old. It stood to reason very few of the people Steve once knew were... still around. And that was something she could understand. She's got a lot to learn, and she might be forever curious, but she knows not to tread these grounds without warning.

So she continues with something also relatable but not nearly as dire. "Everything about this world is as new to you as it is to me then, too."

"Yeah." He smiles a little bit, glancing toward the cell phone against his ear. "You can say that again."

Well. Not that he knows how new to her everything is, but it's pretty easy to tell she's a stranger to plenty. He hesitates, then thinks what the heck. It's worth saying. "You should know, I have a coworker who's from another planet. I mean, I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but if you're an alien or something like that, I won't tell anyone."

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