Logs:The heart is devious above all else; it is perverse — who can understand it?

The heart is devious above all else; it is perverse — who can understand it?
Dramatis Personae Leo, Sam, Steve
In Absentia Erik	2024-07-19 "On a scale from one to ten. How much should we be freaking out?"
Location <PRV> Sam and Steve's Apartment - Harlem
This is a third-story walkup in an aging historic building which, while not entirely crumbling, has a certain worn and shabby look, its plumbing and fixtures often in need of repair. The apartment has two small bedrooms, but makes up for it with capacious common areas. A single long space serves as living room and dining room combined, is semi-open to the kitchen, and has a surprisingly large bathroom with an antique claw-footed tub. Tall, drafty windows let out onto the fire escape from the living room and both bedrooms, and let in excellent light from the southern exposure. The sleek art deco motif that runs through the living room furniture, while not strictly matching, has clearly been worked to coordinate. The dining set, coffee and end tables have been crafted with complementary geometric patterning, ebony accents providing a dark contrast to the warmer swirls of maple burl that feature most prominently. The sofa, love seat, and chair fill out the rest of the living room, a matching set upholstered in plush burgundy. The numerous lamps do not all match, some of them clearly temporary supplement for the inadequate overhead lighting. It is not quite the middle of the night but it's certainly well past an hour for polite visiting, especially unannounced. This is definitely unannounced; outside, Leo is unobtrusive in a soft chambray button-down and fitted blue jeans, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a Boston Celtics cap pulled low on his head. Possibly he has trailed someone into the building because he isn't buzzing -- just knocking, at first a kind of timid tap? tap? before he evidently reconsiders the utility of this and steels himself enough to rap three times in firm succession. Sam is dressed for bed when he unlocks the door and pulls it open. Fuzzy house slippers, soft flannel pants, an old Air Force tee. Clearly Leo is not what he was expecting here; his brows hike, and he blinks in small disbelief before ushering the man inside. His tongue clicks with only a small disappointment against his teeth, and he's calling over his shoulder: "Ain't our Minibar order but you still might be relieved to get this." He's pulling Leo, brief but fierce, into a hug. "The hell you been? Look like crap, man." Steve is also dressed for bed in a pale blue t-shirt soft with hard use and heather gray pajama pants, though he's currently on the couch, pinned down by and also holding back one very excited Zenobia. When the door closes he releases her and she bounds over to greet Leo, a hundred plus pounds of wagging, panting, wiggling pitbull. The moment he actually sees who's just come in, Steve is also bounding across the living room, somewhat more gracefully than his dog. Leo has just been released by one muscular superhero only to be caught up in a hug by an even larger one. "Thank God! I was afraid they'd gotten you, and --" He clamps his mouth shut as he lets Leo go, and knocks quietly on the (wooden) crown molding. "Are you expecting -- pursuit? Zen, shield." The dog prances in place for a moment, reluctant to leave their guest, but finally dashes off and returns carrying Captain America's shield like a gigantic patriotic frisbee. Steve exchanges it nonchalantly for a heart-shaped dog biscuit and a firm scritch on Zenobia's blocky head. "Good girl!" He's looking Leo over critically now. "Gosh, you do look like crap. Can we get you anything?" "Yes, I am very sorry --" Leo is starting with a duck of his head, only to be interrupted by Sam's strong hug. His eyes open wide; he gingerly pats the larger man on the back. "-- to. Be interrupting --" No, wait, there's a second WHUMP as Zenobia charges over to half-knock him back with her hefty lean. "... your evening..." He's doggedly trying to continue before he's scooped into Steve's bearhug as well. Another small -- pat? pat? until he is released to firmly regain the footing of his entirely unnecessary apology. "I would have text," he adds, apologetic, as he drops down to give Zenobia the most enthusiastic greeting of the three, wrassling her enormous head into a fierce hug against his chest while he THUMP THUMP THUMPS her broad side with a hand. "But things have been." No explanation follows this series of vague platitudes. He mooshes his (pale, scarred) face into the side of Zenobia's neck and then looks up at the other men, hopeful. "... you have booze coming." "Tch, we got booze here," Sam is assuring Leo, though he's pulling his phone out of his pocket to peer at the minibar app, "-- but there'll be a better selection, five more minutes or so. You need food?" This is also, probably, a formality, because (after locking the several locks on the door) Sam is looking disapprovingly at Leo's pallor and too-thin frame and heading to the kitchen regardless of answer. "Can order something else up but we got some, uh -- ramen? Some kinda spicy beef noodle too, you want either those." "Got a superb single malt Irish whiskey, if you're suddenly in the mood for that. Nice sauvignon blanc in my closet, but it's not chilled. Ah..." Steve runs his hand through his hair. "Couple beers in the fridge. Some fancy cider coming in that order, though. Peach cider." He's sort of herding Leo to the dining table and pulling out a chair for him. He doesn't say "you look like you're about to keel over", but he's refraining so hard it's practically audible. He paces to the windows and draws the curtains. Paces back and settles into a seat, leaning the shield against his leg but keeping one hand on it. "On a scale from one to ten. How much should we be freaking out?" Half a beat. "I'm not gonna freak out." "Ah -- thank you. No. I -- can wait on the cider. Some soup would be -- very nice." Leo lets himself be escorted to the table, pleased enough when Zenobia trots along at his side. He's scratching behind her big ears, cooing soft endearment to the dog in quiet Tagalog, and he does not look up from this important task for Steve's question. "Did you hear about HAMMER?" It seems like a formality of a question, he's kind of assuming they've heard about HAMMER, because he is continuing on to: "Whatever they contracted there. They are still struggling to contain it." Sam has been puttering about -- getting out a bowl, getting out some leftovers, and he's turned aside to start the microwave when this information drops. He hasn't quite marshaled his look of dread when he turns back, though. "I heard they was in quarantine. How bad is it?" Steve blanches. "Struggling." Was that a question? Maybe, but Steve isn't freaking out. Yet. "We heard it's killed everyone who caught it." He tries very hard not to lean on "everyone", but the emphasis is still there, faintly. "Heard they don't even know what it is. Might be a bioweapon." "It might be," Leo agrees. His hands are scrunching harder against Zenobia's blocky head, not that she seems to mind from her enthusiastic full-body waggling. "When Prometheus closed, a lot of their -- old -- research -- got out into the world. I -- I don't know what happened to. To any of..." This just trails off, and he shakes his head, small. "But I know HAMMER worked with them, with some of their bioengineering. And there are people among us who have been -- trying to find," he says this careful and stilted, "the researchers who were back out in the world. I know that Magneto was trying to track down many of the..." Just another shake of his head, here. He takes a shaky breath. "Wherever it came from, I'm sure I could handle it." Sam is drawing his palm slow against his neatly trimmed beard. Behind him, the microwave beeps several times, and then gives up on its alert. Sam's fingers curl into a loose fist, knuckles pressed to his lips. He's startled into action by the buzz of his phone, and looks immensely relieved when he goes to retrieve the large order of booze from the deliveryperson. He's distributing ciders to everyone first, Leo's soup forgotten in the microwave. "If they let you handle it. Don't lock your ass back in another cage the moment you get anywhere near some federal office." Steve is shaking his head. Not his habitual choppy gesture, this is a slow, meditative one. He stares at the cider in front of him. Gets up to pour himself a whiskey. Gets distracted on his way to a glass by the scrolling FOOD READY on the microwave's display. Fetches the bowl and sets it down beside Leo's cider along with a spoon. He's nodding now, at Sam's hypothetical. "They'll think it's a safer bet forcing you to handle it." His eyes suddenly focus on Leo again. "We could make them think twice about that. Especially if we get SHIELD behind it, too. Fury's mighty dedicated to stopping the end of the world." "I have some friends who are -- trying to broker. Some kind of. Arrangement. I just -- if they do, I was hoping -- I wanted to know if you guys would come. With me." Leo is looking up from his intent focus on the dog to turn wide eyes towards the other men. "I think with you alongside they might think twoce. About any -- trouble. I know it is a lot to ask, I just. I know I could help and also know..." He trails off again, and picks up his cider with a small dip of his head in thanks. "Shit, man, 'course we can be at your side for that." Sam is cracking his own cider open, his head shaking as he takes a large swig. "You know we'd have your back even if you weren't saving the world. Again. But you roll up here with some ominous shit that would definitely be in faded old news clippings scattered around the opening scenes of a damn apocalypse movie, we wouldn't just be shitty friends but damn stupid to let that slide." Somewhere in the middle of this Steve has gotten up again and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey. Takes a gulp. Sits back down. "You bet. It's like he says." He gestures at Sam with his glass. "Even if you don't need -- Earth's mightiest heroes. Even if it's not the fate of the world in the balance. We're your friends. They can try to take you over my --" He sets his jaw tight. Looks squarely at Leo. "We're with you, pal. To the end of the line."