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?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

"Alien?" she asks, briefly thinking over all the alien related literature--fiction and nonfiction--that she's read, before she laughs. But it's not a mocking laugh so much as happy and full of wonderment. "Do you really know one? I didn't think they actually existed. Do they blend in with Users--ah, people? They must, if they're a coworker, right?"

And it begins: a constant stream of questions. It's been a while since she's unleashed this kind of arsenal, but she can't help it. Her curiosity is virtually unstoppable, and probably a welcome change to the conversation regarding both of their rather depressing histories. "I'm not an alien myself, though, just so you know. Not technically, anyway."

"I know a few, actually. Thor's friends come to visit sometimes- they're from Asgaard, which I guess isn't myth as much as another planet. I didn't think they existed either. They look like humans, but uh. They also kind of stand out. They like really big weapons and clothes that no one wears and they tend to smash things when they're around. I mean, they don't do it to be nasty, but it tends to happen anyway. Kind of what we do - the uh, the Avengers?"

She doesn't know him, so chances are she doesn't know about the Avengers either - which would really be something, given how high profile the entire project has gotten. "We more stop the smashing than make it happen."

"Thor? Asgard? That's Norse Mythology, isn't it? I've read a lot of stories about all kinds of myths," she explains, briefly thinking over the various legends she's come across. "They actually exist, but they're aliens?" Any attempt to keep her curiosity subtle? Gone.

"Avengers," she repeats. She fights back a grin because that sounds... what was the word Sam used? Cool? "Do you avenge things? Is the name self explanatory?"

"Yeah, it is." He sounds a little incredulous himself, but he can't really help it. "And yeah, they are. I mean, I don't know if any other myths are actually aliens, just so you know."

He wouldn't want her to think that because Thor is real and an alien that all mythological beings are necessarily aliens too. "And... You know, I'm not really sure why they picked that name. I kind of came into things a little late. We protect people. Fight for them when they can't fight for themselves."

"Wow," she breathes. She's prided herself on being a very scientific sort of person, but she's also very trusting and very open minded. "They actually exist. I never imagined even one pantheon would."

She flops over on the couch, staring at the ceiling, still hugging the pillow to her chest. "It's still a good name, I think. For what sounds like a good cause." And Quorra knows all about protecting people. It's like a hobby of hers.

"It is. A good cause, I mean." He closes his eyes, stretches- and the bench's back cracks as he leans hard against it. "-Darn it."

Steve gets up and lifts the bench under a streetlight one-handed to see how bad the damage is. Not too, but it should probably still be replaced. "What do you do? I mean, what kind of job."

Quorra heard the crack, and her brows furrowed. "What was that noise?"

And then she freezes. She didn't really have a job at the moment. They were still working on setting up a legal background so she could come to work at Encom with Sam, but it was taking longer than they anticipated. "I don't have a job," she says cautiously. "Not right now."

"Oh I just... broke a bench. It happens." He winces, setting it back down and deciding he should probably get back to the mansion at some point tonight. He makes a mental note of his starting place - he should be able to find his way back here to let someone know it needs fixing - and continues on his way. "What kind do you want? I was never much good at anything, before this."

Maybe he can help her get a job, a kind of thank-you for the late night conversation.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject