Message for you, sir!

November 24, 2015:

Agent Lewis comes with an important message for Captain America


Headquarters of SHIELD


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

After her beer with Shift and Lunair and Bruce, Darcy returned to HQ. She was going to change back into official SHIELD work outfit but the beer and the weather and the hour all told her HELL NO. So, she stayed in her white tank top under her oversized jacket, black pencil shirt (which was the ONLY thing left of her monkey suit), and untied black jungle combat boots she bought herself in college and has refused to part with. Her red knit hat sits over her unruly brown locks as she swipes her ID card at the door.

"A little late for you, hmm Agent Lewis," quips the door guard.

"Bite me, Jefferys," Darcy replies with a grin as she moves past him. Two steps, and she turns around. "Oh, yeah. I need to find Captain Rogers," she says with a note of querstion in her voice. The guard seems a bit increduouls, but gives her his location. So she's off, heading for where she was told he was, walking through the halls like she owns the place. Because the best way to look like you belong somehwere is to act like you belong there.

Once she catches up with him, Steve Rogers is sitting in a dark room with several computer monitors and a technical support staff person whose fingers fly over the keys for him. It's sort of embarrassing, really. A man of his skill needing someone to do a lot of the computer work for him. Nevertheless he likes the company and the Agent Whitcomb spends quite a bit of time with Steve.

"Hey Agent Lewis," Steve says, swiveling in his chair. Whitcomb gives a questioning look and Steve shrugs. "Either way."

"I think I'll go grab a cup of coffee," responds the computer savvy nerd who scoots away. "What's up?" Steve asks as he turns back to Darcy.

She wasn't expecting him to have company or need a typist. Well, weirder things, right? Darcy just smiles at the twu as they figure out who's staying and who's going before she reaches into the ffront of her tank top and into her bra for a folded up paper napkin.

"Message for you, Sir," she drawls like a Monty Python character with a bag English accent. The napkin is brandished at him, other hand on her hip. Her eyes seem serious, a touch annoyed, though her lips are curled up in a grin.

"Comes with a verbal, and I quote: ''Dat asshole wiff dey eyepatch outta know what ze fuck to do wiff it''," Darcy adds, clearly trying to mimic a thick accent and getting it completely wrong by turning it into that horrible French accent from the YouTube video 'End of Ze World! Fire Ze Missiles, and then takele nap'.

Steve's eyes go large when she reaches into her bra. A bit sheepishly he reaches for it and takes it, sitting back in his chair as he unrolls it. "If they're looking for the guy with the eyepatch he's on a different floor." Nevertheless he inspects it.

Darcy shrugs hugely as Steve reads the message. It's just a bunch of numbers, and all Darcy knows is that it is NOT a phone number.

"Search me. I'm jus the knockers. He told me to give it to you and tell you Pirate Pants would know what to do with it. I wasn't going to press for more since he bought me a beer," she retorts as she drops into the chair that was vacated by Whitcomb.

"I'm confused," Steve says, shaking his head slowly. Who wrote this? It means nothing to me. I can certainly get it to Fury, but I'm going to need to know some more about it. I don't want to hand my boss a poison sheet of paper, or something that's going to give him cancer."

"First off, I had that napkin in my bra for about an hour. If it's poisoned it likely wouldn't have made it to you. Secondly, I'm more confused than you are becasue all I know about Shift-Man is that he owes me a pair of skates… and that he apparently had a funreal because he died, but he's back now, and some guy I sort of rememebr from some derelect building and he know either. The whole converatsion was really weird, even for me weird. And Cap. That's weird-weird," Darcy adds.

"Shift," Steve says, looking down on the paper. He sits back into his seat and cannot help but laugh. "How was he? I mean, in the head? Was he coherent?"

"He seemed so. He said so. Free of HYDRA brainwash and Some Darque dude's soul-mucking. He commented that magic brought him back and that he paid back HYDRA in full. Wouldn't be surprised if we find a nuked crater of a base of theirs soonish," Darcy replies as she leans forward into the backrest and picks at it with a thumbnail. Because Darcy did not sit properly, skirt or no skirt.

"His eyes were normal… for Shift anyway. All silver and shit."

"Lang—," But Steve catches himself with a brief wince and then focuses. "Did he leave any way to get in contact with him?

Darcy giggles at Steve's self-catch, her lips parting in a bright and wide smile. She leans away from the back of the chair and swivels from side to side.

"I might still have his email, unless he changed it or something," she replies, shoulders rolling a bit. "I'll try him when I get home tonight and if it works I'll forward it to your inbox, kay?"

"If you'd be able to forward it to me, I'd really appreciate it. Or just let him know I'm looking for him and to stop by," Steve says with a nod. "I'll get this to Fury right away. And thank you Agent Lewis. This was a really great find."

"Right place, right time, got a beer for my trouble this time," Darcy replies, smiling as she pushes herself back to her feet. "I'll send him that in the email and if he replies I'll send it your way," is promised before she waves and turns to see herself out. I mean, let's face it, as much as he's a dreamboat and she'd love to monopolize his time, he seemed busy and all business like. Some idols you just don't throw yourself at. Darcy has her boundaries of respect and all.

"Unless you want to be all clandestined and meet to exchange files all super secret spy agent like? I'll wear a trenchcoat and a hat." Sadly, while Darcy has boundaries, she tends to charge them to see if they'll shatter like sugar-glass.

Steve smiles faintly, "Last time I met a spy with a trenchcoat and hat, I got my heart broken. If it's alright by you, I think we'll just go with your first option."

OH! That faint smile is like kicking a small puppy. Darcy's smile fades into a sympathic frown, and she reaches out to put a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean… Right. Email. You got it. ..And… if you need to just talk or whatevs…? You let me know. I'm really boring in that I talk a big game but I don't really go out and party ALL the time," Darcy offers much more seriously and with genuine caring.

Steve's smile grows and he nods, "Sounds good, Agent Lewis. I appreciate it." He can't help but chuckle at the young woman's exuberance. It's nice to see someone with a little lust for life here in this building. That's few and far between.

With Steve's smile growing, Darcy beams back at him. Hopefully her smile will encourage him to feel better again and that it'll make it clear that she did have only good intentions. Maybe some dirty ones, but still, mostly on the Good end of the spectrum.

"My pleasure, Cap. Have a good one, okay? And seriously, any time. Two AM, two PM. It's all the same to me," is added before she waves again and heads to the door. Message delivered. Damn. I AM a SHIELD Messenger Girl. I better get paid a little extra for this.

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