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DAFT PUNK IS PLAYING AT MY HOWSE MY HOWWWWSE

Steve thinks, not unreasonably, that all the fanfare and cross-checking and scouting the place for traps and bugs last night was really completely unnecessary. About as unnecessary as the guards flanking him now, dressed in tidy suits with sunglasses and looking like proper g-men.

He massages one temple, glancing sideways at the nearest one. "You're not coming inside," he says, shortly.

Normally he wouldn't be rude. Normally he wouldn't dream of leaving people standing around waiting for him. But this is different, darn it.

He reaches out and knocks tentatively on the wall next to the door of the place Quorra said she shared with Sam. Well. No. She didn't say it.

SHIELD just kind of... tracked the conversation and found out.

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The person answering the door... Is decidedly not Quorra. Castor opens the garage door, and his pale eyebrows arching towards his equally pale hairline. His first thought is that the consequences Sam's spoken of all this time have finally come home to roost, and he's immediately sizing up the Users in front of him and various ways to get the glitch out of there.

But all this is filed away and processed behind a smile.dll bright enough to blind as he leans against the door frame.

"Well," he says, eyes raking over the assembly before him. "If I'd known we were to have company, I would have taken the time to spruce the place up a touch." It's said dryly, given the place is a broken down garage on the river under a bridge; 'sprucing up' would require an army of Queer Eye and possibly a few tactical nukes.

Quorra hurries to the door after Castor, scooping Marv off the floor in an attempt to get him to stop barking. "Who's there? Alan? Lora?"

She lands lightly behind the other program, peering over his shoulder. It's neither Alan or Lora--just a lot of people she doesn't recognize. And according to Sam, very few people know where this apartment is. She shifts, coming to stand beside Castor, pulling Marv close. "Can we help you?"

Relief hits Steve as soon as Quorra speaks. He might not know her face, but he knows her voice, definitely. "Uh. Hi."

He nods to the white-faced man and flashes Quorra a tiny smile. "It's Steve. Sorry for the..."

A glance over his shoulder shows what the means. "I just wanted to... Say hello, I guess, in person. I didn't exactly mean for it to turn into all of this. I didn't think it would turn into all of this."

The last part is accusing and directed at the SHIELD agents, who give zero response.

"Acquaintances of yours, duckie?" Castor inquires without turning his head from the rather solid looking User before him. If Quorra knows who these people are... Well, that doesn't entirely remove all the problems in this equation, but it would be a step in the right direction.

"And what would 'all of this'," he says with an airy gesture at the brigade of suits stolidly checking the perimeter with quick side glances at the two Programs, "be, my fabulously fettle friend?"

She blinks, leaning a bit forward. "Steve?" she asks. The voice does sound familiar, and she can't really imagine anyone else to come looking for her. They've all been extra careful about what she is.

Breaking into a smile of her own, Quorra beams. "We spoke on the phone the other night!" she confirms, partially to Castor and partially to herself before turning back to Steve in the doorway. Questions of how he found where she was forthcoming, she first asks, "You're definitely him then?"

"Last time I checked." He grins properly now that he knows he's not either in the entirely wrong place or unwelcome.

Well, not completely unwelcome. He offers the white-faced man a hand, his smile turning formal. He's not sure he likes the idea of someone so... well. Like this, being Quorra's dearly-loved housemate. "My escort. Please don't worry about them. Uh. You must be Sam?"

Sam, on the other hand, had been somewhere else entirely. Possibly at the arcade. Which is why when he pulls up and sees black SUVs surrounding his humble abode he panics and jumps off his bike, hightailing it towards the open garage door and the black suited people standing in front of Castor and Quorra. Shit. Shit.

But he's close enough to catch the last bit and his panic doesn't dim so much as kick into high gear. He doesn't need anyone thinking Castor is him and he knows Castor well enough that having anyone think they're the same person is just asking for trouble.

"No, that's... I'm Sam Flynn." A deep breath as he very much tries to ignore the black suits and focus on the guy who looks at least normal and reasonable.

...Castor eyes the hand dubiously, unsure of what exactly he's meant to do with it. When Steve mistakes him for Sam, there's an added glint to the smile and he's just about to milk the opportunity when the actual Flynn shows up.

There's a theatrical sigh as he crosses his arms. "Indeed, I am hardly the fabled Son of Flynn. I'm Castor." There's a mocking, small attempt at a bow (though he never loses sight of any of the unfamiliar faces crowding the doorstep). "And this," he tilts his head in Steve's direction while looking to Sam, eyebrows back up, "is Steve. Apparently he's here to see our Quorra."

Steve turns, his emotions stamped as clearly on his face as always. First surprise, then relief, then friendliness again as he reaches out with one hand to grab a SHIELD agent's wrist as the man goes for his gun and holds out the other to shake Sam's own hand.

"Hi. Steve Rogers. I talked to Quorra on the phone the other night. She uh. Spoke very highly of you."

Quorra smiles when she hears Sam, and it grows wider when he comes into sight; she's barely holding on to Marv as the dog struggles to run for him.

"It was a bit of an accidental call. I told you, remember, Sam?" she says, holding back herself now from the usual welcome-home hug. It would be rude to interrupt the handshake, for one.

She didn't miss the suited man's hand movement, though, and she'll be keeping her guard up towards them.

It's lucky that Sam is actually shaking Steve's hand before what Quorra said clicks with the name and he nearly drops it.

"You're Captain America." Luckily for Steve it's not said in a tone of fanboying but the flat voice of someone who just can't believe the world. It takes a lot to take Sam by surprise now, and having Captain America show up on his doorstep well. He can deal with that.

Except that he can't. Not really, which is why he turns to Quorra and says "You got a phone-call from Captain America?"

For his part, Castor is looking between Steve, Sam, and Quorra, blank confusion on his face.

"Terribly sorry, but Captain what?" There's a moment before something visibly clicks. Sizing Steve up, he cants his head to the side. "...Not that blue one from the telly news of late? The one with the shield?" With not much else to do but read whatever Quorra brings back from the library, surf the internet, and watch TV. He's noticed the Avengers hopping about in... What was it, New York City? Something like that.

"That would be me," he says, to both Castor and Sam. He lets the agent go once he's sure things aren't going to go south, grinning. He looks between the three of them, lingering for a curious moment on Castor before he lets go of Sam's hand and says, "...Can I come in? I understand if you have plans - I kind of didn't say I was coming."

She grins at Sam. "I didn't know who Captain America was. Besides, he told me to call him Steve."

Shifting slightly from one foot to the other, she doesn't answer Steve's question. It's not her house, and she doesn't know what Sam wants. She also doesn't want those guards coming inside, evidenced by the slight look of disapproval she shoots in their direction.

"Well he's" and a wave towards Steve "Captain America." As for coming in well he can't exactly just leave Captain America standing outside.

"Leave the goons outside." He brushes past Steve with a reassuring grin at Quorra as much as he can muster and gives Castor a look. Preemptively. "We're not used to guests so uh. Make yourself at home?"

He's not quite sure what to make of Sam - protective, which is good. Kind of cold, which he can't really blame the guy for. It does make Steve a little nervous, feel like he has to explain he wasn't going to let the SHIELD operatives follow him inside, but there's not much point to that except his own comfort, so instead he gives the closest one - the one who went for a weapon - a calm look and says, "I'll be fine," before following Sam inside.

He stops just past the threshold, surprised to find the other side of the building wide open on a very nice view. It has to be marvelous at night, even if Steve isn't sure he would want to live in a place that seems so vulnerable.

...There's a boat out on the water he saw keeping pace with the SUVs as they drove. The people on board are all in casual clothes, but Steve knows all too well what people look like when they're tracking a target and trying to look like they're doing anything but. He clasps both hands behind him in parade rest, hiding his annoyance.

"Would you mind if we closed the... wall?" He nods toward it and the boat beyond. "They probably have a lip reader. Or recording equipment. Maybe both."

Castor affects a terribly wounded, innocent face at Sam's totally unwarranted harsh look that lasts until all have shuffled into the garage-on-the-riviera. Then it's back to a smarmy smirk as he shuts the door in the collective face of the thusly designated 'goons'. Spinning on his heel, he follows after the group, stepping lightly behind their visitor.

"You certainly run with an interestingly curious crowd, mon capitán," he drawls, definitely too close for comfort, before walking around and setting himself on the arm of the couch.

Quorra had scurried after Sam, shifting Marv to one side, before squeezing his arm in half a hug as they walked. That would do for the welcome home for now.

She peers out at the boat and purses her lips. Exactly the sort of thing she wanted to avoid. Without waiting for Sam, she walks over and hits the switch to close the view, blocking out the agents on the boat. "It's a prettier view at night, anyway," she beams. Nope, she still doesn't quite grasp what it means to have Captain America in one's living room.

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