You TAZED Thor?

March 13, 2017:

Darcy is the welcome wagon for one Mattias into the land of America

Bitch Coffee - Upper East Side

A swanky, hipster-run coffee house in New York City

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Thor Jane Coulson SHIELD

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Work had been stressful as of late. Just, so much to do, so many people feeling oh so touchy about all manner of thing. WIthout a someone to drink spirits with, Darcy chose coffee. Mocha, to be exact. After she changed from work attire (Men in Black done as only the curvy Darcy Lewis can do) into ripped legging over fishnets under a sweater dress under a heavy jacket with a green scarf and a red beanie. Army surplus combat boots and an oversized pursed complete the 'I'm fucking relaxed right now. No one jinx my groove' attitude she's protraying as she moves into the coffee shop and pauses to just inhale the aroma of orgasm by coffee-smell.

The little bell above the door rings out, signalling all of the ironically bearded barristas that someone new has entered the coffee house. Someone new, in this instance, comes in the form of a tall, muscular man in his mid-twenties that looks like he got hit with the Sebastian Bach from Skid Row stick, then fell into a vat of muscle milk. His blonde hair hangs free over his stenciled leather jacket and his worn-down, too-cool-for-replacement blue jeans. What's not cool? The giant THINGS TO DO IN NEW YORK CITY flier that he's got in his hands while he's entering the coffee house.

"Ess-cuse me, Miss." He mutters in some kind of Eastern-Europe mutter as he steps past Darcy towards the counter. There, he stops and blinks, gawkishly, up at the menu. It's an awful lot of Italian, up there.

"Oh…fuck. Uhm…" He offers to the menu, slowly.

The sound of the bell prompts Darcy to take one step further inside. Because being hit by door is never fun and someone ALWAYS asks about the bruises. Darcy looks up at Mattis with a smile, then looks away to start toward the bar when she double takes and just lets her gaze linger over him appreciatively.

"Yeah. Shit ton, right? First time here?" she says, because it was completely obvious by the flyer. She's just not going to say it outloud that he's got the flyer.

Whatever is left of the man's open mouth closes with a little bite of teeth towards the menu. One brow, the one on Darcy's side, curves ever a bit in a Dwayne Johnson manner. His lips clamp shut and he looks over to the woman, brightening a shade and grinning awkwardly with white, white teeth. "Yes, yes, it's my first time. You'd think I'd gotten used to this at the airport, but this place just moves so fast." Grinning a little bit more, he tucks a lock of his long hair behind his ear and turns his attention from the woman, back to the menu. "Cold brew. I know cold brews, though, way better than coffee." He holds up a finger to a plaid-wearing iPhone hipster with a beard that shouldn't ever be worn in a food-preparation place without a chinstrap hairnet.

"One cold brew, please, bottle, if you have it? Tack."

The bearded barista looks almost insulted. They don't sell BEER here! They sell coffee. His expressino makes Darcy giggle and she loops her arm into Mattias' elbow.

"Oh, gorgeous. This place doesn't do cold brew. They do coffee, mocha, latte. You could get some on ice, if you wanted. Here, let me order for you… Hmm…. Two iced mochas, extra whip, extra chocodriz," Darcy says, ending with an almost wicked grin at the barista.

"I"m Darcy," she says now, look up at Mattias.

The solid rock of an arm, muscle abound beneath an extra layer of dead cow-blackened leather, tightens in a squeeze when Darcy loops her hand there. Mattias gives both Darcy and the barista a concerned look, as if one of the three of them has missed some detail about 'cold brew', but he lets it go with a breathy laugh.

"Iced works, yeah, it's not cold out enough for hot coffee, but I could have sworn…" He trails off in his accented English, pointing to the sign. Bah. He waves it off and brushes his hand over the top of his head, "…chocodrizzle sounds like a Pokemon go thing."

The hand drops from its tug of his hair over his head, turns, and offers itself to Darcy's hand. A large hand, like a hockey player's pre-game shake.

"Mattias." He replies with a smirk. "You're the first American I haven't had to hand a bag over to for a customs search or that I've given money to for a sandwich. Congratulations."

Darcy's tiny in comparison. Under five and a half feet, her hands are just as tiny. And yet, she does this without the slightest hesitation or even fear of his larger szie compared to her. She just smiles brightly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck yes! I love popping cherries. Where're ya from?" Smooth segway there. Brain to mouth filter has not engaged.

All size differences aside, Mattias doesn't growl-squeeze Darcy's poor hand. For all the strength collected around five of his favorite ten fingers, his shake is far, far from political douchebag dominance squeeze. It's a simple, nice, non-lingering squeeze before he's taking the hand back and reaching for his wallet.

"Popping what? I didn't see any cherries on my way in here, Darcy. The cab driver told me this was a hip star-place to get coffee, but I don't see anyone famous." Blinking, Mattias rolls his eyes and glances over his shoulder, then down to the woman. "I'm from Gothenburg, Svesnk. Sweden. I just left the hotel after two days on the plane, so bear with me, yeah?"

That he misunderstands is adorble, and Darcy giggles again, reaching for her own debit card and moving to swipe it.

"Sweden. Swankie. And yeah, over seas plane rides suck ass and not in the fun way. I'm bearing with ya, Matt. And I'll try to go easy on you." She winks. "No promises thouggh. I tease people I like."

One-handed, the other arm linked with Darcy's, Mattias can't rightly swipe his wallet. He waves the wallet in the air after her wrist in a weak attempt to stop her from swiping, but she gets there first. He scoffs some kind of 'bah' like diamond thieves in a Bruce Willis movie are known to do, then stuffs the wallet back into the rear-ass pocket of his jeans.

"THE Sweden, yes," The norseman flashes a tooth, managing a half-wink back to the woman before reaching out to the drinks when they arrive. He hands one to her, then takes the other one up for himself. "It's okay, if you were in my town I'd probably teach you all of the things you're not supposed to say to strangers in Swedish." Drink up, he points the straw-top towards the streetside, then begins to lead her that way.

"So what does Darcy of New York do?" Mattias asks. "Is this your town? Your home? Or are you just here for some kind of work?"

Darcy ah-ah-ah-ahs back, shoo-shooing his hand from her as she swipes and then tucks the debit card into her bra. The drink is taken and straw sucked on to get to the mocha.

"Ohmygod, you should totally teach me anyway," Darcy says, happily going where she's lead.

"I work for SHIELD, handling some of the crazy. I live here now, have for a few years after dealing with bullshit in New Mexico and Norse mythology just sort of throwing up all over the place." Pause, slurp. "I will still have words with Coulson about the pet store."

"Is New Mexico the one with the tacos, or is that Mexico-Mexico? All the menus at the hotel said was Mexican. I keep getting the two mixed up." Mattias straightens his back and dauntingly eyes the closed door. Darcy in one arm, drink in the other, he chews at his lip and shoves what seems to be a light shove with his boot, but the door swings open far too fast for a light shove, which bangs against the outer wall.

Queue a sigh of relief that the glass didn't shatter.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Mattias calls out over his shoulder, gives Darcy a half-alarmed, skittish look, then guides her, quickly, out onto the street where everything smells like piss and car exhaust.

"So you studied the Norse in Mexico with a man named Coulson who works in a pet store? For SHIELD?" Mattias cracks a challenging brow downwards. "Jag komer knulla din skalle med en fisk, Darcy. You're fucking with me. I see you."

Wow. Stacked Baz-looking beef cake is stacked and strong. Darcy eyes the way he muscles that door with a touch of appreciation in her eyes. And then doesn't seem bothered by it at all. Because Thor.

"No. I interned for an astrophysist in New Mexico, which also has tacos. And the crap they serve this far north is NOT mexican. It's a poor white man's attempt at mexican. Unless you find a mom-n-pop Mexican place. That shit's the real deal. Anyway. I interned for Jane, and then she ran a guy over with her van who ended up being a god." She slurps her drink, tilting her head up to grin at him. She transfers the drink to her looped through his arm hand, and then holds up her other hand.

"I swear to fucking Jesus that I am not Yag-comber Kuhnewllay teen skahlley mehd in feest." Her accident is horrenous.

Mattias' cheeks hollow ever-so while he sips at his straw. The muscles of his neck tighten when he swallows, and though he's walking slowly with her, watching Darcy talk, he still finds the time to let out an appraising 'hrrrm', which is mumble-speak for good. He salutes her with the cup. Who ever said civilian-level ambassadorship was difficult?

He nearly sputter-coughs his drink, lifting his meaty forearm over his mouth at her do-doth-declare.

"No, no, kommer knulla din SKALLE." Mattias sounds it out. "It was…something about skull-fucking someone with a fish. I'll write it down for you later and you can tell that to a cabbie in Gotenburg." Once more, the arm tightens around her looped arm, and he glances down to their feet. The incoming bottle is stepped over. Easily. "So you're an astrophysicist? She hit a GOD with her car? SHIELD sounds like dangerous work." A beat. The question forms. "So…what did this god do to Jane after she hit him with her car? Did he chase after you and Jane and Coulson?"

"Well… now, that's just awkward," Darcy retorts when the translation arrives. More mocha is slurped up, unconcerned by the faux pas. Especially not when she's offered to have it written down so she can use it.

"Hell to the yes. I'm down for that," she adds, slurping again and chuckling.

"Nono. I'm a polisci major. Jane's the science geek. Thor went thunk, then got up and started ranting. Freaked me out. So I tazed his ass, and we dropped him off at the hospital. But then Erik was like "OHMYGOD That really was God of Thunder" and so we boosted him and helped him try to get Mewmew back, but that went to shit and Coulson showed up and took al of Jane's research, and then his brother sent a giant space robot to fuck up the city. I don't know what happened after that. I was busy evacking a pet store because Coulson and his dumb fuck field agetns didn't clear out the puppies."

SLLLLL-L-L-L-L-L-Lurp.

Mattias is quiet for the whole story. At one point, he even slows her to a stop, watching her with one eye on the big, red hand on the traffic light. The wind catches a few locks of his hair and splatters them over his face, and he leaves them there when they walk again, across a street, following the tourist traffic in the direction of swanky.

But in the end, there's this long, long slurp.

"You met -the- Thor? The Northmen's Thor?" Mattias blurts out after he swallows, motioning to a small hammer hanging from a necklace against his chest. "You TAZED Thor?" Eyes crinkling, Mattias laughs loudly, catching himself before he snorts at the end. "Oh, god damn, Darcy, I'm going to have to get your number and then when things with SHIELD are crazy you're going to have to send me the selfs. SHIELD sounds awesome. How long have you been doing that?"

Too engrossed in her story, Darcy leaves all the traffic negotation to Mattias. Because STORY!

"Yes I did," Darcy states, very matter of fact, as if it were completely sensible.

"He was freaking me out," she adds. Because she doesn't just RANDOMLY taze people. Darcy tazes with a purpose.

"I got his mug on my wall though. I'll find it again and send it to you. Fuck. It's been a few years. But yeah, totes. If there's time for selfies. Soemtimes, the giant man-eating rock lobsters don't like to sit still long enough to Snap," Darcy rambles again, grinning throughout, happily so.

"Ooh, fuck. You reminded me. Sparky has answered my texts. Imma hafta go kick down his door. I'm thinking about sneaking in some Asgardian mead into Ray's family reunion, and Thor's my hook up.

"Here. Gimme your number," she says.

"I'm not too proud to admit that I'm not quite sure if you're being dead serious or fucking with me, but this has been a good time, so…yes." Mattias sets his cup down on top of a vending machine and reaches in, past her arm around his, to the inside of his jacket. A Swedish-made phone with a bunch of words with umlauts all over his screen pops up when he turns it on.

"I should get back to the hotel, too, but I'm staying in the area and don't know anyone. Feel free to call," Mattias holds up a number on his screen for her to take down, or mash the phones together in one of those weird infra-red port makeout sessions that trades contact information. "Because you know it's gonna take me days to get my sleep on American time."

Mattias does the screen-mash. Bloop. He gingerly unfurls her arm from his and gives her the room to flee.

"See you around, Darcy from SHIELD." He points his cup towards her. "Remember, next time, I buy."

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