milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

There's no announcement.

There's no fanfare.

No humorous misunderstandings.

Nick Fury enters the bar, sits down at a table, opens the newspaper he was carrying, and starts to read. It's the New York Times.

The relaxed pose he is cultivating is somewhat at odds with all the black leather, kevlar, and hidden weapons he is currently sporting.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Black is very slimming," he says. "And I think I'm more of a Winter. So khaki is right out."

"Ha! I'd been telling Pat he'd look better in blue for years," she says, wryly.

Not mentioning Pat's tendency to turn blue, grow a third (all-blue) eye in the middle of his forehead, grow additional fingers and sharp (blue) teeth when he holds his breath long enough.

"But then he just started wearing navy blue. Which... practically counts as khaki anyway." You'd never catch Rae in any neutral color. White, black, beige, ecru, khaki, nope. Only the brightest of bright colors.

"Is he Navy? Because you can tell Navy boys whatever you want, but they never listen. Especially if it involves having a fashion sense." Those hats.

He is just as composed while discussing fashion as he is when the topic is alternate universe economics.

"Nah, he's SOF. Special Other Forces. The regional headquarters is just about a mile away from my step-dad's coffeehouse, so they're regulars."

They've always known they had a rapt audience in Sunshine, when they wanted to talk shop. Less so now that she's (extremely-)unofficially working for them.

"Special Other Forces? Sounds like Tuesday, to me." His voice is dryly amused.

"Oh?" she looks surprised. "You have Others, in your world?" The capital letter is pretty evident in her tone.

If his answer is yes, he'd be the first person Rae has met who both has them and calls them by the same name.

"Maybe not." He definitely caught the capital. "Or at least not exactly. But we do have people with...unique skill sets."

"Ah," she says, surprise clearing. "Then that's a 'no.'"

"Others are sentient non-humans. Weres, demons, vampires, 'ubis, trolls, wraiths, doxies, et cetera." It's a very long list. "SOFs police the Others, while the straight cops police the humans."

Though SOF's job is mostly cleaning up after the fact, usually a vampire attack, and giving the sterilized ashes of the blood-drained bodies to their next of kin, with their condolences. It's not the SOFs' fault they're underpaid, overworked, and stretched too thin to make much of an impact.

"That's a no," he confirms, after taking a moment to process her explanation. "We'd probably be interested in exchanging intelligence with them just in case," Fury says, with the wry amusement of someone very use to putting out fires. Whether they be literal or metaphorical.

Or possibly metaphysical.

"I'm sure you would," she says, also wry, as she takes another bite of her cinnamon roll. "But they don't know about this place, or other worlds."

And they won't be finding out from her. She needs this place to be her refuge.

"Probably for the best." He also has another bite, and there is a moment of blissful silence.

"You wouldn't want a bunch of mooks swarming the place, after all."

"It's extremely far into the Do Not Want end of the scale, yeah."

The wry smile is... pretty much gone. Why yes, keeping secrets from SOF is a legitimate worry, especially to one like Sunshine, who has trouble keeping her thoughts from showing on her face.

If SOF execs found out - about Milliways, about what Sunshine can do - Rae would be disappeared in SOF's underground labs faster than she could blink, and spend the rest of her natural life (and longer) chained to the Goddess of Pain's desk as her new pet research project.

"So don't tell 'em." It's part simple statement, part order, part rough encouragement.

"This place seems to attract exactly who it wants, and when. There isn't much point in worrying about it. Preparing for it, definitely."

"Wasn't going to. Tell them, I mean. Worrying about them finding out, well," she shrugs, "I worry about a lot of things, so it's not too far out of my way."

Those faint scars of scratches and scrapes on her shoulders and arms, barely visible, weren't made by particularly ferocious dough. Thankfully, her apron covers most of her more noticeable scars, though the necklace-like burn scar may be visible where her neck meets her shoulders, above the collar of her shirt, if her hair doesn't fully cover it.

"You certainly don't have to worry about your continued patronage here, if I'm any judge." Fury visibly restrains himself from finishing the cinnamon roll, and wraps up what's left in a napkin.

"I should get back to work before anyone notices I'm off the grid. It was nice to meet you, Sunshine."

"Nice meeting you too, Nick," she offers a smile, mostly for the unspoken compliment of taking the rest of the cinnamon roll with him, but also because it was genuinely nice to meet him. "If you ever want to take some cinnamon rolls back with you, either to hoard or share with coworkers, you let me know."

"You're joking, right?" he says, one eyebrow raised. "You think I want mooks hanging around here either?"

Was that a wink?

Maybe.

He raises one hand in farewell, and heads out the door.

It get her to laugh, anyway. She waves as he heads on out, back to his world.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only