February 06, 2016:
Sharon Carter returns from overseas, Hal drops off someone from the DoD, and Reggie comes to sit and chat.
Grand Central Station
Characters
NPCs: A security guard, woman, tons of folks
Mentions: Agent Carter and Nick Fury, Constantine and Reese
Plot:
Mood Music: [*\# None.]
Fade In…
Grand Central Station.
The who's who usually arrive here especially after long trips, even if they didn't want to take the flight within the friendly skies. Sharon was no different, favoring the long route to New York City after a black ops mission that went completely well and.. quite frankly she was due for a break. But she needed to check into the Trisk first, as per usual, find a new place to live and just set down her roots again until another mission crops up. Could be another day. Could be a week. Could be years. One would never know with SHIELD.
She waits for the bag exchange, finally seeing her dufflebag round it's corner, her eyes squint, a frown curls upon her lips as she reaches for the bag to tug off of the belt. She sets it down upon the ground. The tag looks like hers.. but.. once she opens it, bits and bobs of bottles of perfume and lingerie were inside along with a few choice material that remains unnamed.
"Oh for petes sake.." She groans out, hefting the bag up and carrying it rightfully towards the security guard. "Listen, we're going to have words right now. This is -not- my bag. I don't know how my name tag got on this bag but this?" She gestures towards it, dropping it to the floor. "Is not mine. I need it found. Now."
Hal Jordan technically doesn't need transportation for anything at all - he certainly isn't about to ride a train anytime soon. But he had dropped off a defense bigwig on the train back to DC as a favor to the company. He kind of had to keep in the good graces of the boss however he could, since he was always blowing off actual job assignments to go gallivanting around the cosmos. He was pretty awesome at gallivanting, though.
He's headed back upstairs towards his jeep when he hears the argument beginning. His eyes are hidden behind reflective aviators, his leather jacket showing his old Air Force patches as he makes his way up. "I'm sure we can get this straightened out," he says, looking at the security guy. "Just go check again, I'm sure you can figure out what happened." he says. Surreptitiously, he uses the ring to scan the bag she got, making sure there wasn't anything potentially explosive to be found in the one she was given by accident.
There were potentially explosive things in there; rings of the unfavorable kind for those who probably wouldn't enjoy that sort of thing. Leathers, and.. lets just say it's all censored and we wouldn't want to pull that out to ruin a train station full of children. And the presence of children is strong here today. The bag was kicked over with a hint of attitude, the guard grumbling with a crouch to pick up the items and wander off towards the office.. where the door opens and a sound of a lady screaming behind is heard.
Sharon lets out a sigh, her own jacket soon zipped and stuffed into, her blue gaze falling upon Hal as she offers a smile of thanks. "You really didn't have to do that. I had it handled." She states, then takes a bold step forward, her hand snapping out to offer up a shake. "Sharon. You are?"
Hal Jordan takes the hand, "I know I didn't. I'm the kind of guy who volunteers," he says. "Hal Jordan," he says in reply, glancing over at the screaming.
"That doesn't sound particularly promising. I do hope there isn't going to be trouble. Or, if there is, that it's at least entertaining," he says with a half-smirk, giving off a cocky ease.
The door bursts open as the guard falls out of it, the mad woman carrying the same bag that Sharon had over her shoulder, which was soon tossed towards him upon the ground. The lady disappears inside, then returns, throwing articles of salacious clothing upon the guard as he tries to scramble away, shielding his face and carrying Sharon's real bag in tow.
"Hal Jordan. Hm. You sound like a video game character." She smirks a little, watching the display with raised brows, almost close to approaching but she doesn't.
"Good lord. It's so good to be home.." She murmurs quietly to Hal, watching as the guard, flustered, returns with Sharon's bag.
"Sorry about that Sir. Didn't mean to keep you and your lady waiting."
He doesn't even wait for a response, he was going back to helping the woman with her things but she screams at him and pushes him away much to his behest. And then, her eyes were set on Sharon…
"Uh.." She reaches out to grasp Hal's arm to lead him off towards the nearest cafe, looking over her shoulder as she hitches her duffel upon her shoulder.
Hal Jordan doesn't seem perturbed by the mistake, because he doesn't get perturbed about things. That's kind of what he does. "Video game character, huh? Well, if I start throwing fireballs or battling dragons, don't be too surprised. It wouldn't be the first time, " he says.
He catches the arm of a passing waitress quickly, "Coffee, quickly, before the KGB finds us. Mum's the word," he says, winking at the girl and grabbing a seat at the cafe, gesturing for Sharon to sit across from him. "Been away for a while, huh? Mind if I ask where?"
"So I hear." What did Sharon hear? Absolutely nothing about Hal Jordan. But she has heard of the things that happened while she was away and she probably still wouldn't believe it until she's seen it. She takes a seat across from him, setting the bag down next to her foot, her leg kicked up and crossed over the other as she leans with a little bit of forced relaxation only a woman would know how. "Oh yeah.." She casually states, looking all around her, checking exits.. people.. the usual.
"Belize, and a few other places actually. Needed a -very- long vacation." If she was lying, it would be extremely hard to tell. "It's good to just drop everything and travel the world sometimes. I at least recommend it once."
Hal Jordan notes the checking of the exits. He's been around enough military and operatives from his time in the military. She's either in the service or has been - or something like it. She's got the bearing and posture, plus she looks ready to rip out the throat of anybody who crosses her. Pretty but murderous.
"Oh, I've done plenty of travelling. Seen some crazy places in my time. Aruba. Jamaica. Bermudas. Bahamas," he says. The waitress brings straight cups of coffee, barring anyone asking for anything special, along with sugar and cream, "If I could get one of those chocolate croissants, I would give you my firstborn or, barring that, a nice tip. Anything for you, Sharon just in from Belize?"
"Mmm, Aruba. Crazy hot but goddamn, those people." She laughs a little, sitting up straight backed as the waitress comes near. "I'll take a burger if you got it. Double the fixin's. Extra cheese if you don't mind. And an order of fries."
She wasn't kidding, nor was she afraid to get down and dirty, especially if it was on someone elses dime. "And a tin of mayo." She smiles at the woman, waiting for her to leave, then looks back towards Hal as she picks up her coffee to cool it with a blow of her lips. "What about you? Where'd you roll in from?" She studies him in that moment, taking note of the jacket. "You're obviously a fly boy. That much is certain, you really don't look like the type that'll home up on a train, if you know what I mean."
Hal Jordan chuckles, "Guilty as charged. Just dropping off some guy from the DoD on a train back to DC. I work at an experimental aircraft company now, they brought him in to kiss up to see if he can talk Congress into dropping another hundred mil in the bank account," he shrugs. "But that's it for my work obligations for a week or two, so I'm going to hang around the Apple for a bit, maybe see a show. I don't know, what do people do in New York with free time?"
"Experimental?" Her brows raise faintly. She was sure her compatriots probably had a hand in it. But that was neither here nor there. "Well.." She leans back now, glancing up towards the waitress as she brings out their food, Sharon's burger a pile of a mess that needs a fork and a knife to cut through it. She even has her condiments listed all in a row. She immediately takes up the fork and knife, then begins to cut into her meal.
"I don't know. It's been a while since I was able to cut loose here. Lets see…"
There's a soft *pfuft* in Sharon's hair and a spitball sticks out against her temple.
A tall, skinny fellow in a snappy three-piece suit slips his chair back with a scrape of metal on tile and drags it a few paces over, setting it down at the table, and sitting down with a completely unconcerned grace. He crosses his legs at the knee and adopts an indolent lounge, smiling at Hal from behind a short, neat beard. "Sorry to interrupt, my friend," he says in a difficult to pin down accent. "I would have said something before, but I have a bet with the driver that I could sit in the room for five minutes without her noticing me. Rasheed, Rasheed Butrow," he says, offering Hal a handshake. With his other hand he snaps his kerchief from his breast pocket and offers the bespoke silk to Sharon.
"You just made me twenty quid, dear. Seems life at SHIELD's softened your edge a bit," he tells her in a cool tone that's clearly bantering and reflected in an affectionate glimmer in his unusual grey eyes.
Hal Jordan takes the handshake because he's polite and because he's unafraid, even if this guy's just popped up out of nowhere. His grip is firm, though, borderline overly macho before he releases the clasp. "Rasheed, huh? Friend of yours?" he says, flicking his eyes over to Sharon. "Pull up a chair, then. She and I were only just getting acquainted," he says.
The SHIELD thing immediately, of course, makes him go -ding-ding-ding- in his head. That would certainly explain the alert attitude, although neither did he take what this stranger said at face value. There was a game being played here and he would see how it played out before he overturned the board.
The light put-put to her head has her hands dropping the cutlery upon the plate, her hands smacking against the table, ready to stand up and raise hell and high water until 'Rasheed' makes his appearance. She was annoyed to say the least, keeping her mouth shut as she takes the napkin to wipe herself clean, a turn up of a nose given. "Yeah. Unfortunately." She says to Hal, offering up a sympathetic look and then puts on a smile.
"Rasheed, this is Hal. Hal Jordan." She states, watching the two men get acquainted as she picks up her fork and knife again, determined to make the right cuts. "Hal was just wondering what is there to do in New York. I was going to suggest Opera, but that seems more like your thing." Her tone suggest she was chiding him, hinting at something that wouldn't be spoken aloud. Surely he would get the point, maybe they both would.
"Yes, quite, how do you do," Rasheed says to Hal. He takes his kerchief back and folds it into a neat triangle before placing it back in his breast pocket, just so. "Opera? Bad time of year for it, my friend," he assures Hal. "Miss Urmana's taken a sabbatical to Seattle for a few weeks. They've got an amateur in the wings to take her role in 'Pagliacci', but if you ask me, I think her friendship with the producers and her … other oral skills got her the job. You might consider a Broadway show, that's really the height of New York tradition. Jersey Boys, for instance."
He examines his manicured nails and looks back to Sharon. "Oh, don't be cross with me," he rebukes her, an infectious smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "If I wanted to be a real nuisance I'd have done much worse. It's good to see you back in town," he assures her. "Your dear auntie wanted to be here but she's wrapped up in meetings. I'm unoccupied at the moment so I thought I'd lend you a ride from the station."
Hal Jordan raises an eyebrow at Rasheed. Was this guy for real? Did he just say 'dear auntie'? "Hold on a second," he says. He stands up and makes a show of looking around in every direction, then sits again and leans his head down to the side and under the table.
"I dunno. If there's a hidden camera, I can't find it. I've never been Punk'd before, what's the protocol?" he says.
"So, I'm going to have to just assume that you are a real person and not Ashton Kutcher in a wig and a weird accent," he says to Rasheed. "You mentioned SHIELD. Are you a member? Is she a member? Is Nick Fury our waitress?"
As Rasheed gives the run down, Sharon eats. The man had the gift of gab and she had to appreciate that. It gives her time to indulge, taking that first bite, her brows furrowing then shaking. No. She's tasted better. At best the meat patties were frozen once upon a time. Ah well!
"Hmm?" She finally manages out. "I'm not being cross! And if you were a real nuisance I'd bring you back to SHIELD with your legs broken and fingers used as a.."
Hal's outburst was noted, it was clearly obvious she's missed something here. "Auntie?" Was this a code thing? She didn't have any other aunts save for Peggy, who was kicking it in the retirement home with the rest of them. "Uh…" Now it was her turn to look around, her hand reaching out to wave a bit to get Hal to settle down. "I'm a SHIELD member. C'mon Hal. Sit down. Fury isn't going to pop out of a bowl or anything and yell surprise." She doesn't state what Rasheed's status was, that was his own cross to bear.
Reggie winks at Sharon. "You're in for a surprise, my dear," he says a bit mysteriously. "Just make sure I'm in the room so I can get it on film."
He looks back at Hal, adjusting his cufflinks. "Hmm? Me? No, no," he laughs. "Come now, how many government agents where Saville Row?" he asks. His suit is bespoke, and probably costs as much as a couple modest mortgage payments. "I work for Mifflin-Dunder," he explains. "Corporate headhunters, so I try to stay in Sharon's good graces. Private sector's always looking to hire security experts, and even paper-pushers—" he makes an oblique 'like this one' gesture at Sharon, badly disguising the motion with his other hand, "can do nicely. Regrettably, our relationship is anything but professional. I used to deliver groceries to their family flat," he says with a wry smile. "I've known Sharon since we were both still in shorts."
Hal Jordan takes a sip of his coffee. "Do…do people stop wearing shorts at some point? 'cause I still wear them. I mean, not now, the weather's way too cold. But I look damn good in them and I would hate to have to stop," he says. He enjoys playing a little bit of a thick jock - it provides a useful cover and lets him troll people for his own amusement, although it's hard to miss the sparkle in his eyes when he says it.
"I sincerely doubt that Sharon's a paper pusher. Or that anything you just told me is as simple as you've made it out to be. She carries herself like she's about to pull a gun any second. And you grinning like a Cheshire mostly makes me suspicious. For someone who's known her since childhood, she doesn't seem overjoyed to see you."
Sharon gives Reggie the weirdest look ever. She blows it off with a shrug of her shoulders. Popping a few fries into her mouth to chew. As Reggie begins to tell the story, at least the story of the hour, Sharon shakes her head and rolls her eyes, that one hand lifting to smack against her head to let out a slight groan.
"Why the h.." Ugh. Now she was going to look like a SHIELDIE who only joined to get out of mommy and daddy's money. Thanks, Reggie. Thanks.
"Even paper pushers get trained especially if they're going out in the field. I work in tech and screen clients that may or may not have the pleasure of meeting dignitaries." She sighs, then shakes her head. "Well, given our history.." She pauses, wondering how to say this. She even struggles a bit, embarrassed. "He's my ex. Ended on decent terms but.. what can you do when you find out the man you intend to marry is now galavanting with your childhood best friend? It.." She shakes her head a little, forlorn. "Whatever."
It was 'apparent' that the little conversation had brought up old wounds, for her cheeks flush a hint of red as she looks away from the two men to focus on something against the wall. Her lying was impeccable. "We're okay now though. All business."
Reginald casually filches one of Sharon's fries. "Short pants are for blokes named Trevor, children, and the beach," he tells Hal with a Brit's confidence. "A gentleman is never without trousers or at least, dungarees." His grin widens a bit at Hal's observation. "I'm just so happy to see my old family friend," he assures Hal with an overwhelming sense of sincerity.
He nods along with Sharon when she tells her sordid tale, but when she says all is well and looks away, it turns into a slow negative shake of the chin at Hal.
"Don't rehash old wounds, Sharon," Rasheed rebukes the woman. "That was years ago. People grow up and change. You've been married to the job since before we met. Amanda's been gone…" he swallows, eyes dropping to the table then giving Sharon a long look. "For long enough, now. I'd hope at least for her memory, you could let it go."
His jaw clenches and releases a few times, and he glances back at Hal. "I'm sorry, my friend," he tells the man. "Sharon and I… well, we are like the Jack and Diane."
Hal Jordan takes another sip of his coffee. He watched Sharon as she spoke and she is, indeed, a good liar and her explanation is a good one. The only thing Hal doubts is that she would've gone out with Mr. Starched Shirt in the first place but, then, childhood bonds can be hard to break.
"Didn't mean to pour lemon juice on a paper cut, "he says. "Relationships can be complicated. Nobody knows that better than me." Hell, his girlfriend was a blind immortal who was routinely terrorized by demonic old ladies in kimonos or got his help to resurrect dirty sorcerers to save the world from apocalypse. Y'know, date stuff.
Sharon was done with her food, nevermind that Reggie stolen some of her fries, but she was filled up from the burger and actually appreciated the helping hand. Not that he'd see it, of course. But she pulls off all the stops, her fingers curling into a half fist that her chin could rest upon, thumbing along her lips as her eyes begin to water at the mention of this elusive 'Amanda'. She was indeed married to work. Which is why her and Reginald have a relationship to begin with. Dat intel.
She sniffs heavily, taking a napkin to dab a little at her eyes, her body willfully shriveling at the thought of .. well nothing. It was all a show, a show put on for Hal Jordan's benefit to ease tense situations and soon, her hand shifts into her pocket to drop a fifty upon the table. "It's alright Hal." Sharon says, standing from the table. With a lean she grabs her duffle bag, then cants her head towards Reggie. "Guess it's time to go. Hey, if you're thinking about catching some Jersey Boys, Hal, look me up. Extension 6754." Of course, the operater for SHIELD is listed in the books. And that extension would be re-routed once the call is cleared through the proper channels.
"A pleasure, Hal," Reggie says, getting to his feet. He buttons his jacket up and offers a hand to the man. "So sorry to crash the party, I hope you're not terribly cross. Sharon, may I take your bag?" he offers politely. "We're right over here." He smiles again at Hal and starts stepping towards the parking lot.
Once they're well past earshot, he counts softly under his breath. "What were we at, five dollars per fib?" he inquires of Sharon. "That wedding one was a real cracker. I think the Amanda bit really sold it, though." He opens the SUV door for her and then climbs in after her.