Logs:I in Team

I in Team
Dramatis Personae Steve, Tony
In Absentia Bruce, Lucien	2024-10-21 "Mock all you like, this is bigger than you and me."
Location <NYC> SHIELD HQ - Times Square
From the outside it could be just another office building obliquely overlooking the world-famous plaza. The signage in the lobby gives a directory of the obscure and prosaic businesses that have their offices there, but mysteriously none of them will take visitors who do not have appointments. All day long, people in sober business and work wear come and go, both through the front entrance and the highly secured private garage. Even inside, past the cover and the security high tech and low, it still looks like an office building. Only a select few locations -- labs and training spaces and most notably the immense command and control center -- betray the true nature of the organization operating here. S.H.I.E.L.D. is busy. It's always busy, of course, but the past week or so it's been extra busy, a round-the-clock bustle that has led by turns to some small apprehension and some great excitement among many of the staff, who maybe here and there have harbored hopes that the world would offer far, far less solid justification for the existence of their jobs. Tony should, maybe, be less excited and more uneasy at the large-scale deposit of aliens of unknown provenance and threat level buuut together with the strange new threats come strange new technologies. So, okay, yes, he very nearly got melted into his suit trying to round up one new alien immigrant who was (accidentally? on purpose? it's yet to be determined) dissolving a small section of a Tallahassee neighborhood. So, sure, a lot of people lost their homes and a good number more are in the hospital. Homes are replaceable; their hospital bills can and will be covered, Tony is seeing to that. Or, Pepper is seeing to that, because Tony has come straight here with several items confiscated from said alien before they were remanded to the ~~custody~~ care of some Very Capable S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents. Interplanetary policing is their issue; he's corralled them at lunch for a long and animated discussion of these new finds. As the scientist duo get back to work, Tony is staying put in the cafeteria. He's casually dressed in a grey and black compression shirt (through which single layer the faint blue glow in his chest can, somewhat unusually, be seen), dark blue jeans, sneakers. There's a red and gold gym bag beside his chair, currently ignored as he finishes up a can of Dr. Pepper and several emails. Did they have tiered lunch trays before Steve started eating here? Possibly not, though they are useful for much more than just unusually large appetites. In a pale blue t-shirt with the Avengers' logo in black and red, black tactical pants, Steve has both levels of his tray loaded to capacity as he wends his way through the cafeteria, stopping regularly to chat with agents and contractors as though he were a visiting celebrity and not a regular. Wherever he had been heading, he quickly reroutes to the actual visiting celebrity. "Hey there! Mind if I join you?" He doesn't seem to genuinely expect any opposition, since he is setting down his lunch before even completing the question. "I know you've been awful busy bringing all those folks home and dealing with the fallout -- if I can help with any of that, we should talk -- but." His eyes track to Tony's gym bag, and then back to the man himself. "I'm so glad you're finally making time. Will Dr. Banner be joining us, too?" "Finally? Finally, what's -- finally. It's barely -- one week these guys have been free range. Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones wouldn't be rounding 'em up any faster." Tony hasn't looked up from his phone throughout this. "You antsy for a fetch quest? Probably a better gig for your, ah, sidekick, some of these drifters are alarmingly mobile." "He's not my sidekick," is practically reflexive, but whether because he thinks there's no need or no point, Steve doesn't bother elaborating. "And I'm not antsy for a...fetch quest, though I'm ready to help if there's anything needs doing that is in my wheelhouse." He sits down across from Tony. "I was talking about training, since..." He glances at the gym bag again and sighs. "...darn. You're not here to train, are you?" "The way people are losing their minds about this -- this 'invasion'. Plenty in your wheelhouse, I'm shocked our PR guy doesn't already have you in front of a flag touting how patriotic it is to welcome immigrants." Tony's phone is going back in his pocket and now he's looking over at Steve, brows hiking. "Train? Wasn't that -- weren't you bugging us about that months ago?" "Think he's been keeping a lot of balls in the air." Steve shakes his head. "Even more balls than usual. I'll tap him to offer my ah, immigrant advocacy expertise." He picks up his orange juice and hesitates with the glass halfway to his lips. "Yes! And you didn't come. I'm still bugging you about it, just not as frequently." He sets the glass back down and leans forward earnestly. "Training should be ongoing -- individually, in pairs, and as a team. It's all the more vital now that we've drawn some attention from other worlds." "Oh, wow, you were --" Tony leans in across the table to frown intently at Steve's face before he leans heavily back in the chair. "That's amazing. Crash into the ocean. Frozen seventy-five years. Wake up still fighting Nazis. And still so -- very -- optimistic. This is why you make the good PSAs." He picks up his can of soda, flicking lightly at its tab. "So you're. Very serious about this, then. Getting a whole alien playbook ready." Steve blinks at Tony, his half-smile pulling harder and harder to one side but not fading altogether. "Mock all you like, this is bigger than you and me. My optimism won't save us, and neither will your cynicism, but working together will, because we are a good team." He picks up a massive plate of spaghetti from the upper tier of his tray and sets it in front of himself. "I know you do things your own way, but that doesn't mean we can't play ball. Right now, you are my alien playbook. That's not good enough, but it's a heckuva running start." "It won't? Maybe you're underestimating --" In the pause while he considers this, Tony is reaching over to pluck a meatball from Steve's spaghetti plate. He pops it into his mouth, licking quick at his fingertips. "Well. One of us. Alright, Mr. Rogers. Name your time and place." Another pause here, while he gulps down some soda. "... not to me, though. Pepper can. Handle that."